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BY 

/ 

WILL J. BLOOMFIELD 

M 


A NOVEI. 



CHICAGO 

DIBBLE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
334 DEARBORN STREET 
1893 





Copyright : 
Will J. Blooimfield. 
1893. 


Libby & sherwood printing go. 

CHICAGO. 


CHAPTER 1. 


The mountain was covered with a thick growth of 
oaks through which the road wound round and round to 
the crest. Here a little clearing of several acres had been 
made, in the midst of which stood a giant oak spreading 
its broad top protectingly over a log cabin that had been 
reared beneath its branches. The cabin door faced the 
west, which was now flaming with gold and crimson, and 
the mountain was bathed in the mellow glow, while far 
below in the valley, the purple shadows were verging 
into darkness. 

In the open door of the cabin stood an ag6d black wo- 
man, leaning wearily against the door-post, her arms 
akimbo, her eyes with a wrapt expression fixed on the 
glories of the sky; her lips apart; she was saying: “ Six- 
ty year I’ve watched de sun lightin’ up de mountain 
night an’ mawnin’ an’ a colorin’ it off wid gold an’ eb’ry 
night I’ve done said de Tord be praised I’m anudder day 
nigher etarnal rest. I long fo’ de time when I’ll lay my 
ole bones down and gib up de gose. No moah worry in’ 
den ’cause its cold, ’cause its warm, ’cause its wet, ’cause 
its dry; no moah pinin’ den fo’ dem dat’s gone — all 
togeddah ober yander.” 

Up from the gathering darkness of the valley, the gen- 
tle zephyrs that began to rustle the leaves of the oak, 
brought to her ears snatches of a song; a man’s voice, 
sweet and clear, was singing, “ W’en Dese Ole Dry 
Bones Meet.” 

‘ ‘ Dat am Remus draggin’ his shaky ole bones home. 
Wondah what has kep’ ’im so late,” remarked the wo- 
man. 


2 


FAY BANNING. 


A little later, an old negro, bent with age, leaning 
wearily on a hickory staff, came slowly up to the cabin 
door. 

“W’at on arf hez kep’ ye so, ole man? De hoe-cake is 
done colder dan a. wedge an’ spilt!” said Chloe, his wife. 

“Ole age is fast creepin’ on, Chloe,” was his answer. 

He entered the cabin and after washing they sat down 
to their humble meal. Both had been silent for seme- 
time when Chloe said: “I done feel zif somethin’ strange 
gwine to happin’ soon. I’ve felt it in my bones fo’ a 
week. Constantly befo’ me is de image ob dat poor 
Fay Banning dat am roamin’ de worl’, de good Lord 
o’ny knows whar, — Ispect friendless an’ homeless, — drove 
away by dat step-mudder o’ hern. De ole Nick’ll kotch 
dat ole woman some day. Fay war an angill an’ did’nt 
I nuss her, poor little weak lam,’ from de time her dear 
mother gib her her into my arms an’ say: ‘heahdeah ole 
Chloe, de Lord hez seen fit to take me from my family 
an dis worl’ an’ now I gib dis little weaklin’ into yo 
hands knowin’ yo’ll be to her wot yo’ve been to me. 
Be kin’ to little Fay for my sake an’ the Lord will bless 
yo’, till dat she b’ar cum to be her mudder. 

Den arter her dear ladder died an’ all de property must 
go to dat sour, scowlin’ critter bekase de will said so, an’ 
poor Fay dun turned away when she w’as yit heartbrok- 
en fo’ her fadder. 

I know well nuf Mars Banning made anudder will on- 
beknown to dat ravin,’ jawin’ critter an’ left Fay suthin’ 
ef could o’ny be found. 

“Now Remus,” Chloe resumed, “ef I waz you w’en I 
be workin’ round down dar I’ud keep an eye open for 
dat iron chist what Mars kep’ his things locked in wot 
he did’nt want Madum Julia skulkin’ through. Duz yo’ 
eber think of it?” 

“Yes, yes honey, I’se watchin’ for dat box all de time, 


FAY BANNING. 


3 


an‘ I done tink de I^awd gwine to bring dat box to light 
’fore long.” 

In the valley at the foot of the mountains, was once 
the happy home of the Bannings. Robert Banning, while 
traveling abroad had wedded an English lady of beauty, 
wealth and position, and brought her back with him to 
become the happy mistress of his ancestral home. His 
plantation was one of the largest and richest in Ken- 
tucky; his home all that v/ealth and cultured taste could 
make it. But after one short year of wedded bliss his 
happiness was blasted by the sudden death of his beauti- 
ful and accomplished wife, who left him as a precious 
legacy a little daughter only one month old. For ten 
years he remained inconsolable. At the end of that time 
he was induced to marry the governess of his daughter 
Fay, an artful and designing woman who had succeeded 
in deceiving him as to her true character. The second 
Mrs. Banning ruled her home with an iron hand, and so 
harrassed her husband that in a moment of desperation 
he yielded to her wishes and drew up a will leaving to 
her his entire estate. It was conjectured that a later will 
had been made but as no trace of it was ever found Mrs. 
Julia Banning, upon the death of her husband, came into 
undisputed possession of the entire property and Fay 
Banning, at the age of eighteen, found herself penniless, 
and obliged to depend for the necessaries of life on the 
cold and grudging bounty of her stepmother. 

Mrs. Banning soon married again and chief among her 
gains was a new step daughter. Miss Celia Tewksburry, 
a beautiful and alluring woman, but dangerous, subtle, 
capable of any cruelty, and treachery. 

On an adjoining plantation to the Bannings lived the 
Ellsmeres. Arthur EUsmere and Fay Banning had been 
playmates and companions in their childhood, and as they 
grew older their friendship had ripened into love, and 


4 


FAY BANNING. 


they were to have been married on Fay’s nineteenth 
birthday. But a shadow in the form of Celia Tewks- 
burry had fallen across their path. By cunning art she 
had forged letters purporting to be from Arthur Ellsmere 
to herself, and let them fall into the hands of Fay. These 
letters proved to Fay’s mind the inconstancy of her lover. 
One night after suffering slings and arrows from the 
tongues of Celia and her stepmother, she fled no one knew 
whither, from the^ home that had been so dear to her 
before the advent of the crafty three that now infested it. 

Arthur Ellsmere had spent five years in ceaseless search 
for her, but his quest had been entirely fruitless, and he 
almost despaired of ever seeing her again. 

Remus and Chloe, or “Uncle Remus’’ and “Aunt 
Chloe,’’ as they were familiarly called, had been slaves 
of Robert Banning’s father, but had been given their 
freedom by Robert before he died; after the death of 
their master, they had taken up their abode on the moun- 
tain, and Uncle Remus earned a living by working for 
the Tewksburrys. So sure was Aunt Chloe of the wrong 
done Fay that scarcely a day passed but she alluded to 
the “iurn box’’ in which she was sure could be found 
the necessary paper for the restoration of the Banning 
estate to its rightful owner. 

Why was Mrs. Julia Tewksburry the uneasy creature 
that she was, surrounded with wealth and luxury, and 
Fay Banning well out of her way? Why could she not be 
content? Yet she was always moving restlessly about 
like a shadow in an uneasy dream. Cato, a black boy 
at her heels, always armed with, a spade, digging at the 
direction of his mistress here and there for what he knew 
not. Dog-kennels, smokehouse, pigstys, etc., had been 
moved, but Cato’s spade failed to unearth anything that 
satisfied the searching look in Madame Julia’s piercing 
gray eyes. 


FAY BANNING. 


5 


Colonel Tewksburry, as he was called by Madame 
Tewksburry, though how he earned the title was not 
known, was a perfect little burst of corpulence with a 
sort of sleepy mein. He had feathered his nest by shar- 
ing his joys and sorrows with the widow Banning. His 
first marriage had brought him a snug little fortune, but 
living a sort of butterfly life, he soon found the bottom 
of his coffers. After the death of his first love, when he 
sued for the hand of the heart broken /ulia, forsooth, he 
had naught to offer, but his throbbifig heart and his 
amiable daughter Celia. Happily he was not rejected. 
His glibness of tongue had been the chief means of win- 
ning the affections of Mad mie Banning, and after their 
marriage, having no high- ambition than to eat and 
drink at her table, Madame Tewksburry grew weary of 
the Wilkins Macawber life the Colonel was leading, 
always waiting for something to turn up, when he would 
make himself felt in the sphere in which he moved, and 
made the house so warm for him at times that at last he 
was seized upon with an ardent desire to travel, and 
Madame Tewksburry, to rid the house of him for a season, 
till she could muster patience to abide him again, fur- 
nished means, a scanty allowance, however, to carry his 
weary body up and down this world. 

In truth he was a merry devil, and we shall see more 
of him anon. 

Miss Celia, unlike her father, was a crafty, artful crea- 
ture, as has been already said, an excellent cat’s-paw for 
Madame Tewksburry for any chicanery in which it 
pleased her fancy to indulge. The friendship between 
the two women was mutual, and Miss Celia was veritably 
a hawk in an eagle’s nest. 

On the day following the conversation between Uncle 
Remus and Aunt Chloe, the former was set at work, in 
the rear of the Tewksburry mansion, cleaning out an old 


6 


FAY BANNING. 


well to be used as a cistern, that had been dug and 
proven a failure while the property was yet in the hands 
of the Bannings. It had been filled with old rubbish, 
stones and earth. About four feet from the surface his 
pick struck something that gave a metallic ring, a little 
digging unearthed an iron box about a foot square 
securely locked. 

“I bet dat am de same identical box,’’ ejaculated 
Uncle Remus, “ dat Chloe am alius tellin ’bout what she 
used to see hid away in Mars. Banning’s closet. Now, 
how on de livin arf am I to git dis yeah box outen heah 
dout dat gaupin, chatterin idit wots helpin, seein it, an 
tellin Miss’y July. I hab it ^^w.” 

At this moment his assista c, a wide-eyed darky lad, 
appeared around the corner oi the stables. “Hey, yo’ 
Sambo!” shouted Remus “I je.s seed dat ole brindle cow 
jump into de cornfield! Git yo long now quick an git ’er 
out! Hump yo’sef!” Already Sambo was on the road 
for the cornfield calling the dogs after him. “Now’s my 
time,” said Uncle Remus. He hastily placed the box on 
the cart, covering it with earth, and hurried off with it to 
the ravine where he had been dumping the rubbish. He 
placed the mysterious box in a hole, carefully covering it 
with earth, and marked the spot, resolving to remove it 
that night and satisfy himself as to its contents. After 
Uncle Remus had finished his day’s work he started for 
home as usual. When he reached the woods at the foot 
of the mountain, he hid himself and waited for darkness 
to enable him to recover the box. 


CHAPTER II. 

On the banks of the beautiful Hudson was the summer 
home of the Lelands. The house was built of that colos- 
sal masonry which the primeval deep piled up when it 
began fashioning the hills — a massive structure of wings 
and galleries and colonades. Around it a broad grassy 
lawn, with rows of maple and Tombardy poplar trees, 
flights of steps, with vases holding beautiful tropical 
plants, fountains, miniature lakes, gardens with clipped 
hedges, and beyond were grassy meadows, dotted over 
with flowers and long shady drives. A quiet, restful 
nook, situated a short distance from the thriving town 
of M— . 

Mr. Iceland was a rich merchant of New Orleans and 
to this beautiful spot he brought his family to spend the 
warm summer months. 

Guy Leland had found himself a widower at the age 
of twenty-eight. Deprived of the love of his fair young 
wife, his affections naturally turned to his daughter and 
only child, upon whom he lavished all his wealth and 
love. 

Fern Iceland! Did ever the light of heaven fall on a 
sweeter, fairer face ? 

No human eyes could rest on that fairy-like form, those 
perfectly moulded features, without feeling a quick warm 
heart throb, and a desire to cover with kisses those cherry 
red lips closing over pearly teeth. Her gold-tinted silken 
hair, falling in showers over her shoulders, made her look 
as fair and pure as the very angels in heaven. Yet she 
was a giddy little sprite, having grown up, perhaps, too 
much after the manner of the wild flowers that bloomed 
in the mossy dells around her home. 

7 


8 


FAY BANNING. 


It was a lovely May morning, and Fern unclosed her 
beautiful blue eyes and murmured sleepily: 

“ Oh, it is such hard work to open my eyes, and I am 
so sleepy! There, Mrs. Rouncer is ringing for me to 
come down. Wonder how late it is,” glancing over at 
the clock. “Oh, fie! lam an hour late again for break- 
fast and papa wanted me to be more punctual. 

” I do wonder if Mrs. Rouncer will tell him how lazy I 
am when he comes from New Orleans. I’ll tell Mrs. 
Rouncer I won’t do so any more and then she will kiss 
me, and-now-I-lay-me-down-to — ’’and the curly golden 
head sank -down in the pillows, the lustre of the hair 
reminding one of glowing sunshine on drifts of snow, and 
she was soon fast asleep again. 

Mrs. Rouncer, the housekeeper, a buxom dame, went 
on about her morning duties for another hour, then called 
Miss Farjda)", Fern’s governess. When she answered 
the summons Mrs. Rouncer broke forth: 

“ Please do go an’ see if that girl is dead. I’ve rung 
the bell an’ hollered fer’er till I’m hoarse!” 

Miss Fariday, a queenly creature, with a pale, sad 
sweet face, no less beautiful than little Fern herself, though 
of a different style, slowly ascended the broad gilded 
stairway. She paused at Fern’s door, lightly rapping, but 
receiving no answer, quietly entered the room. 

“Fern, sweet flower, wake up dear. Don’t you see 
how how high the sun is, little sleepy head ?” 

And Faith Fariday bent lovingly over the little fairy, 
patting the rose tinted cheek with tender hand. 

lyike a flash the blue eyes opened, and springing from 
her bed, light as a thistle down, she flew to the window, 
throwing aside the curtains and looking out upon the 
landscape, clapped her hands with delight: White winged 
boats were gliding to and fro on the tranquil bosom of 
the river, and the birds were trilling forth their joyous 
songs from the trees. 


FAY BANNING. 


9 


Great banks of lilacs — sweet masses of the fragrant, 
fluffy things grew directly under her window. No won- 
der Fern Iceland was such a dainty flower herself, born 
and reared in the midst of flowers, and lulled to sleep at 
night by the songs of birds, and the murmuring of 
water-falls. 

“Oh, Faith,” she exclaimed, meanwhile hastily dress- 
ing, “do come and look out upon the beautiful scene. 
Do just look at the flowers and birds, and the boats on 
the river. Oh, that I were an artist, that I might paint 
the feelings of the soul. But I’m not. I’m only plain 
Miss Fernl Heigho!” And with that she gave her 
slipper a toss and dextrously caught it on her foot. 

“ Oh, say, Faithy dear, is Mrs. Rouncer storming the 
castle this morning ? Really I didn’t mean to sleep so 
late; but I’ll hie me down and pat her cheek and call 
her some dear old pet names and we will be good friends 
again until tomorrow morning, eh ? ” 

After kissing her companion she bounded down stairs 
like a fawn and before Faith reached the bottom of the 
stairs she heard Mrs. Rouncer laughing, which convinced 
her that Fern had already made her peace with that 
lady. Faith passed into the parlor and sitting down at 
the piano, lightly hummed a plaintive little air. There 
is something in that sad, sweet voice that tells the lis- 
tener there is some hidden sorrow in her life, though 
what it is is unknown to the Felaiids. All they can tell 
of her is that five years ago she answered Mr. Iceland’s 
advertisement fora governess for Fern, and he, feeling a 
sudden sympathy for and interest in the sad pale face, 
with its large beautiful beseeching eyes, somewhat rashly 
engaged her. But he never had cause to repent his 
kindly action, and had come by degrees to trust his 
daughter entirely to her care. 


10 


FAY BANNING. 


Another member of Mr. Iceland’s family is his sister, 
Miss Isabelle Iceland, who came to live with her brother 
Guy after the death of his wife. 

She boasts of having withstood all the onsets of for- 
tune hunters, and will only wed a man of twice her 
wealth. She is a haughty woman, proud of her riches 
and position. 

Judging from appearances she is at least thirty, and 
her beauty, though not in its hey-day, is not yet in its 
autumn. She is handsome still. 

But, ah ! She has a prying disposition, peeping into 
dark closets and unlocked drawers, and a sharp tongue, a 
veritable two-edged sword. 

She has ofteu tried to fathom the mystery of Faith 
Fariday’s past, but without success ; so not even sharp 
Isabelle Iceland can glean Miss Fariday’s secret. 

She has always carried on a warfare with her niece, and 
now that Fern is sixteen the conflicts are sometimes 
bitter. She disapproves of the friendship of Fern and 
her governess, and holds people in contempt who have 
dark secrets locked up in their bosoms like Faith 
Fariday, and is confldent that Miss Fariday is no fit 
companion for Fern. 

She refused to go north with them this summer, but 
persisted in remaining at New Orleans, thinking, spite- 
fully, that she might get a little rest with Fern, and Faith 
Fariday both out of the house. 

Mr. Leland is annoyed at the strained relations exist- 
ing between his sister and daughter, and often chides 
Fern for tormenting her aunt Isabelle, but receives no 
sign of relenting from that willful young lady, whose 
voice is now heard in the hall calling : 

“Come, Faithy, let us take our morning drive. 
Deoil' t- I-need-a constitiUioneal-^ieowf''* she drawled in 
a nasal twang in imitation of the Yankee dialect used by 


FAY BANNING. 


11 


the menials at Glen Hazel (the name of their northern 
home), as she viewed herself in the hall mirror — a 
perfect picture of health and beauty. 

Faith had only to don her hat and they were ready. ' 

They passed out of the house, down the broad stone 
steps, and Fern instead of keeping the path, danced along 
over the short, green grass toward the gate, her tiny 
feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground, her golden 
curls fluttering in the May breeze. 

“ My heart is so happy that it almost seems as though 
I could fly through the air like a bird,” she said, with 
one of her rippling laughs. ” We have no puss here to 
watch. She is far, far away in the sunny South,” gaily 
waving her hand in that direction. 

“ But you must not talk that way,” interrupted Faith. 
‘ ‘ Your aunt Isabelle only desires to exercise great care 
over you.” 

” Oh, fie on aunt Isabelle’s care ! I wish I might 
always remain here and have only you and dear papa for 
companions. But my dear gentle Faith is growing so 
pale and delicate of late that I sometimes fear she is 
going to die. Oh, how terrible that would be, for I 
think her an angel, and how could I ever live without 
her! ” 

Her bright eyes filled with tears and she threw her 
arms around Faith’s neck, and the two girls nestled their 
heads together and wept. 

” What be you ' uns whimperirC abeout in thar called 

a voice from without the gate. 

‘ ‘ There is Tubbs with the carriage now,” whispered 
Fern, and they relinquished their embrace and hurried 
out of the gate. 

Tubbs was holding the horse and smiling broadly as 
they came out. 


12 


FAY BANNING. 


Elijah Tubbs was a good natured Yankee, having 
been “ born and brought up ” he said “ way deown in 
Maine.” He had been in the service of the Eelands 
ever since the purchase of Glen Hazel, and wondered how 
they had* ever existed without his indispensable ser- 
vices. He prided himself on being the best farmer in 
the country, and in truth he was, for the crops of Glen 
Hazel and the stock reared by him were the envy of all 
the rustics in that vicinity. 

He lived on one end of the farm, in a snug little cot- 
tage, and his home was made blissful by four bouncing, 
romping, rosy-cheeked boys, ranging in years from six 
to ten, who made the welkin ring from dawn till night 
with their vociferous din. His good spouse, Emily, 
sometimes grew tired of their clamor, and mustered 
sufficient courage to exclaiiA ‘ ‘ drat them air bo3^s. ’ ’ But 
they were born images of their ‘ ‘ pap, ’ ’ and therefore 
ever pardonable in the eyes of sweet tempered Emily. 

Tubbs was a brother of Mrs. Rouncer, whose husband 
had left this sin-embittered life soon after their marriage, 
and she said, when, often approached on the subject of 
her forlorn condition by Polly Dutton, the neighborhood 
gossip, that she would “ continer to tarry single” the 
remainder of her life. She had taken up her abode at 
Glen Hazel as housekeeper, and there was naught to 
ruffle her tranquil life save the annual visits of Miss 
Isabelle Leland. She never could abide Miss Isabelle, 
and, therefore, rejoiced that she remained in New 
Orleans this summer. 

Tubbs ducked his head and kept bowing low until the 
young ladies were snugly ensconced in the phaeton. 

“ Better watch that mare a leetle grain, she’s growin’ 
vicious ev’ry day. Yisterday she tried to throw me 
when I was ridin’ of ’er tew water. Hold a tight rein, 
Ferny.” 


FAY banning. 


13 


Fern only laughed, and giving the horse a sharp crack 
with the whip they were soon gliding along the smooth 
turnpike at a lively rate. 

Fern had already forgotten the little scene at the gate; 
but not so with Faith Fariday. An old wound had been 
opened, and despite her efforts to conceal her grief, the 
tears had unbidden started. She had braved “ the slings 
and arrows of outrageous fortune” well, for indeed such 
had been her lot. But ’tis sweet sometimes to give way 
to sorrow and ease the pent up grief we bear by indulg- 
ing in a flood of tears. 

Presently Fern, noticing Faith’s gloomy mood, looked 
up and beheld the great blue eyes filled with tears and 
gazing pensively at the sky. 

“Oh, Faithy, dear, I can’t begin to tell you how 
sorry I am for saying anything that may have awakened 
any sad feelings. I am always saying or doing the 
wrong thing at the wrong time. Wish aunt Isabelle 
had been near to have reprimanded me in her sharp way. 
But tell me, dear, why do you chase those dark shadows 
that someday must have crossed your path? You are 
so beautiful and talented it seems to me you might 
always be happy. If you have been disappointed in 
love,” she said coyly, glancing up at Faith, who could 
not repress a smile even through her tears — ‘ ‘ now me- 
thinks I hear aunt Isabelle say ‘Miss Sauciness’ — why 
not console yourself with a bit of Burns’ philosophy: 

‘ Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi’ him; 

I may be distress’d but I wiuua complain, 

I flatter may fancy I may get auither, 

My heart it shall never be broken for ane.’ 

I heard papa telling aunt Isabelle one day — and my, 
how her nose went up I — that Dr. Forrester was deeply 
in love with you and you could wed him if you chose. 
And isn’t he the richest, handsomest doctor in all New 


14 


PAY BANNING. 


Orleans ? How the belles — Isabelles — all rave over him. 
I don’t believe as you do, that you can love but once. I 
take it for granted that you have loved, see? Why I 
could love a new lover every day. I could tread a v/alk 
paved with lovers broken hearts,” said Fern lightly. 

Her lively prattle quickly restored the smiles to 
Faith’s grave face, and soon they were gaily chatting 
together as usual, little dreaming of the catastrophe 
awaiting them. 

They were driving along a narrow road where the hill 
rose perpendicularly on one side, and on the other ran 
the river, broad and deep, below them, when suddenly, 
around a curve, before them appeared something that 
terrified their horse beyond control. It was an old 
farmer and his wife driving a one horse wagon loaded 
with vegetables, evidently going to market. 

The steed they were driving seemed fashioned after a 
saw horse, and to prevent the flies from sapping his 
vitality, was enveloped in a light colored covering, fan- 
tastically trimmed with red. The old lad}^ wore a huge 
poke bonnet, and carried a prodigious green umbrella — 
the whole outfit making up an apparition not often met 
with in broad day-light. 

Both girls grasped the reins, as their horse gave a 
bound forward and reared high in the air, but in another 
instant they were hurled from their seats and horse and 
buggy went over the bank into the river below. 

* * . * S}i * 

When Faith Fariday opened her eyes she gazed at the 
objects in the room with a bewildered stare, and in vain 
tried to recall what had occured. Mrs. Rouncer was 
sitting by her bedside fanning her ; glasses and bottles of 
medicine were on a stand by the window. She felt a 
stinging pain in her head, and when she tried to raise her 
arm, found it powerless. 


t^AY BANNING. 


15 


Mrs. Rouncer, discovering she had regained conscious- 
ness, bent over her, kissing her forehead and saying : 

“ Oh, my darling girl, you hev come to at last ! ” 

“ Where am I and what has happened,” she faintly 
whispered. 

“You are in your room darling, and you and Fern 
come very nigh bein’ killed up at the narrers, don’t you 
know ? ” said Mrs. Rouncer, gently bathing her head. 

“ Where is Fern and was she very badly injured ?'’ 

“Oh, no, honey, not so bad as you. On’y she was 
nigh skairt to death. She has a fever now. She calls 
fer you all the time, and sez if she could see you she 
would be well.” 

“ Mayn’t I go and see her? ” pleaded Faith, and before 
Mrs. Rouncer could prevent her she had half risen in 
bed, but fell back fainting. 

A week passed ere Faith could leave her room She 
had received a severe cut on the head and one arm was 
fractured. She was at last permitted to go to Fern, 
whose illness, at first, slight, had increased until now 
her condition was critical. She had received but slight 
injuries compared with Faith, but the shock had been 
too great for her. 

Mr. lyeland had been sent for and was expected daily. 

When Faith saw Fern moaning and tossing on her 
pillow she gave a low cry, ran forward, and threw her- 
self on her knees beside her bed murmuring : 

“Oh, my pretty darling! What will your poor 
father say when he sees you ? ’ ’ 

The days dragged wearily by and no tidings of Mr. 
Iceland. 

Faith began to have grave fears concerning him. 
Fern lingered for some time between life and death, and 
in her delirium Faith’s name was constantly on her lips 
and Faith overtaxed her still slender stock of strength in 


16 


I^AY BANNING. 


ministering to her dear little pupil and friend, but at last 
had the blessed satisfaction of hearing the doctor 
pronounce her out of danger, and on the road to 
recovery. One evening during Fern’s convalesence. 
Faith having watched by the little invalid until she fell 
into sweet, sound slumber, had withdrawn to the 
adjoining room to sit by the open window and get the 
benefit of the fresh evening breeze. But her enjoyment 
was destined to be short lived, for she had scarcely settled 
herself comfortably in her easy chair until callers were 
announced, and, fatigued as she was, she was obliged to 
exert herself to play the agreeable hostess. 

The callers were, however, agreeable and intelligent 
ladies from the village, and Faith in part forgot her weari- 
ness in the pleasant chat that followed, but again the door 
opened, and Mrs. Rouncer ushered in Emily Tubbs and 
Polly Dutton, spinster. Faith noticed the smiles that 
flitted over the faces of the ladies, but received the new- 
comers with her usual courtesy. 

Polly was fair, fat and forty, and was wheezing and 
pufifing like a kettle of mush from the exercise in climb- 
ing the stairs. 

“How d’y’ do, ladies,” she said, bowing in a most 
obsequious manner, then, falling into the arm chair 
offered her, began apparently taking an inventory of 
every article of furniture in the large and elegant apart- 
ment, winking slowly, meanwhile, like a huge overgrown 
toad. Regaining her breath she soon became the orator 
of the evening. 

Meek Emily Tubbs winced and moved uneasily in 
her chair as Polly berated some new victim. 

At length, exhausting all her neighborhood gossip, 
Polly turned to Faith. 

“Let’s see, you had a pertty close call, too, up at the 
narrers they tell ! ” 


FAY BANNING. 


17 


“ Yes, I was quite seriously injured,” meekly replied 
Faith. 

‘ ‘ You’re a southerner, too, ain’t ye ? My land ! I kin 
pick out one of ’em as fast as black beans out of a barrel. 
Their color is allers so yaller an’ bad. Josiah Sibley 
went down south sommers an’ took unto hiself a 
pardoner for life, an’ I never seen such a sallow lookin’ 
thing in all my born days. I honestly thought she was 
mixed with the blacks. She looks better now, since she’s 
got north and bleached out. How long you ben north ?’ ’ 

“ Nearly two years, in all. We come to Glen Hazel 
about the first of May and return in September.” 

“ I heard somethin’ the other day, an’ I thought I’d 
ask you about it if I ever see ye. Miss Spofford, she is 
considered some pumpkins here by the upper tens, 
although I never sot much store by ’er. She is superin- 
tendent of the Sunday School, an’ foremost in the 
temperance work here, an’ is very influential in the 
female prayer meetin’s. She’s been receivin’ letters off 
an’ on from Isabelle Leland, it appears. I ’spose Isa- 
belle is anxious to know how' her niece is gettin’ ’long, 
as if you couldn’t tell her.” Here Polly glances at 
Faith who colors somewhat, and then resumes : 

” Wall, it appears that a distant relative of Isabelle’s 
be’n to see ’er, by the name of Tricksburry, or some 
sich a name.” 

Polly looks over at Faith Fariday, and smiles to see 
how the color leaves her cheeks. 

” An’ this Miss Tricksburry,” Polly continues, “ says 
you answer to the description of a person who used to 
live in her home by the name of Fay Banning, an’ who 
got jealous of a young man and some property, and run 
away. I said I didn’t believe ’twas you an’ I’d ask ye 
first time I seen ye.” 


18 


FAY BANNING. 


This was meant , for a question, and Poll}" Dutton 
paused in her relentless tirade, and gazed straight at Fay 
Banning, for she it was. 

Annoyance, confusion and distress at this sudden 
and insolent unmasking of her secret, struggled for 
the mastery in Miss Banning’s breast, and although 
with strong effort she maintained her composure, she 
felt that reply was impossible ; but she was saved the 
embarrassing necessity by the entrance of Mrs. Rouncer, 
with a summons from the doctor, who waited below. 

Relieved at this way of escape, Fay Banning, as we 
shall henceforth call her, after receiving the doctor’s 
directions sought her own room, and there her over- 
charged feelings found vent in a flood of tears. 

“Oh, God,’’ she murmured, “did I commit a great 
sin by foolishly changing my name ? It was a childish 
freak, and I did it because I was afraid they wouid find 
me, follow me to torture me. I had often thought to tell 
Mr. Iceland and Fern, when Fern grew older, my real 
name and ask forgiveness. Why did I not tell them all 
before ? There is one thing very evident. I can no 
longer remain in the same home with Isabelle Lei and. 
I wiU meet her and tell her all, and clear myself of the 
false accusations she has made against me and then 
relieve her by going from her home forever. 

But Polly Dutton’s work was not yet finished at Glen 
Hazel. 

“ It’s her, all right enough,’’ she sneered, as Fay left 
the room, and looking around with an air of triumph 
continued: “ I do love to make folks happy.’’ 

Meeting Mrs. Rouncer on the stairs one morning when 
she was leaving the house, after one of her visits, she 
hailed that good woman with: “ Good mornin’ Miss 
Rouncer, what a lovely mornin’. ’Twill be so fine for 
walkin’ an’ I’m glad on it, for I want to go up to Mis’ 


FAY BANNING. 


19 


Spicer’s today, to invite lier to a rag bee. I want to tell 
you somethin’ though, ’fore I go, which bothers me 
concernin’ you, now that we’re alone,” she whispered, 
glancing around. 

Mrs. Rouncer braced herself against the wall and 
aw^aited the coming onset with abated breath. 

‘‘I feel awful sorry ’bout it an’ ’most cried when I 
heard it ” — here Polly began sniffling — “ I alius do, for 
its obeyin’ the teachin’s of the Bible, to weep with those 
who weep, an’ rejoice with those who rejoice. Isabelle 
Iceland has been writin’ to Mis’ Spofford, it appears, 
lycland’s health is failin’ ’im, an’ Isabelle expects soon to 
carry his business on for ’im. She says if she does, she 
will make some changes all round in the domestic affairs 
at Glen Hazel, which would affect you some, eh ? ” 

And Polly shot a sidewise glance at Mrs. Rouncer, 
who was fast becoming the color of a lobster. 

” W-e-1-1, I suppose I can get a living sommers else if 
it conies to that,” said Mrs. Rouncer, slowly. 

“Well, I must hurry ’long,” said Polly, chafing to be 
off to get at some other poor mortal. 

‘ ‘ Good day, Mis’ Rouncer. If you need any help 
anytime, let me know,” and she hurried out of the door, 
remarking to herself as she passed down the steps: 

“She’s ben puttin’ on so many airs lately, I thought 
t’ would do no hurt to put a bee into her bonnet. I do 
love to make folks happy.” 

But Polly was not yet satisfied. When she reached 
the gate she found Elijah Tubbs waiting there for Fay, 
who was going to the village, to send a telegram to New 
Orleans. 

“ Good mornin’ Rige,” said Polly, walking out of the 
gate. “What a lovely mornin’ ’tis. I was just won- 
derin’ if Paradise could be any lovelier than these grounds 
around this beautiful mansion, with the fountains 


20 


I' AY BANNING. 


squirtin’ an’ the birds a singing in the trees. It seems 
as if every livin’ creetur is praisin’ its Maker this 
morn in’.” 

Tubbs always had a horror of Polly, but on hear- 
ing her wax so poetical, he ducked his head and gave 
one of his broadest smiles saying: 

” Yaas, Poll}", ’tis rather a fine mornin’, that’s a fact.” 

“I was jest tliinkin’,” Polly went on, “what a pity 
’twould be if you had to leave here now, after you’ve 
worked so hard an’ taken such an interest in fixin’ it 
up here. Mis’ Spofford an’ Isabelle Iceland have bin 
writin’ back’ards an’ for’ards sum lately, an’ Mis’ 
Spofford tells me that Isabelle may soon hev the handlin’ 
of Glen Hazel farm. Mr. Iceland is sick, which accounts 
fer his not bein’ here to see his daughter, an’ if any- 
thing serious comes on’t, Isabelle may take the reins. 
She says if she does, she intends to have all cullered 
help at Glen Hazel, which would materially affect you, 
Tige.” 

Polly glances at ” Lige,” who is swallowing hard. 

” Well, I must be off,” said Polly, starting down the 
road. 

‘ ‘ He took his medicine ruther hard,” she remarked, 
when at a safe distance. ''1 do love to make folks 
happy.” And pussy went home a purring. 

Soon Fay and Tubbs were speeding along towards the 
village, but, alas, poor Tubbs! Polly had shocked his 
complacent serenity with her piece of intelligence. He 
was in no mood to talk horse, this morning, his only 
subject, which Fern had at one time remarked, would be 
his theme in Glory. Presently he broke forth \yith: 

“I dont see what kumfurt ’tis to that Dutton womern 
to go round harassin’ people the way she duz. She 
broke the news tew me as gently as possible this mornin’ 
that Miss Isabelle had wrote up to Mis’ Spofford, tellin’ 


FAY BANNING. 


21 


’er that Mr. Iceland was very poorly, an in case he quit 
dewin’ business, she would rule the roost here, an’ 
hinted at my bein’ started. If she once gets into power 
you may depend I’ll not wait fer her tew hist me. I’ll 
go that minute. But how Polly Dutton loves to roll 
anything like that under her tongue.” 

Fay could not refrain from smiling for Mrs. Rouncer 
had met her before she started, and poured forth her 
woes into her ears. 

“We all have a mission on earth, I suppose,” Fay 
replied, “ and maybe Miss Dutton feels that hers is to 
keep people posted on current events.” 

Fay received a telegram from Isabelle saying Mr. 
Leland was very ill, and to hasten to New Orleans as 
soon as Fern was able to travel. 


CHAPTER III. 


Back among the mountains, from the Kentucky River, 
in a narrow, lonely, secluded valley, scarcely more than 
a deep gulch, quite remote from any villages and planta- 
tions, dwelt the Bargers. Old Barger, as he was called, 
had been a pioneer to that region from the states, 
having, it was supposed, committed a murder and fled 
thither to evade the law. He and his gang of associates 
had terrorized the country in which he lived by prowling 
about and plundering the early settlements. After his 
death, “Old Mother Barger” posed as a clairvoyant, 
and eked out a miserable existence by fortune telling 
until too infirm to hobble about, when she was supported 
by her two sons, one of whom was now incarcerated for 
running an illicit distillery. Late in the afternoon of 
the day on which Remus discovered the iron box, a 
female figure, mounted on a spirited horse and attired in 
a riding habit with her face concealed under a dark veil, 
might have been seen riding up the valley toward the 
Barger lair. 

She rode slowly along, scanning the road, which, in 
places was so overgrown with bushes as to be little 
better than a trail. She was followed closely by a huge 
mastiff, evidently a body guard. The sudden report of 
a gun near the road broke the stillness and caused the 
horse to give a bound forward, nearly throwing the 
rider from the saddle. The dog gave a low growl and 
ran about sniffing the air. The rider stopped, silenced 
the dog and listened. Hearing nothing more, except 
the babbling of a little brook that ran fretting its banks 
down the valley, she urged her horse forward into ^ 

22 


FAY BANNING. 


23 


rapid gallop and only slackened her speed when at a safe 
distance from where the report was heard. Shortly 
after the strange rider had' passed the spot where the gun 
was fired, Arthur EUsmere emerged from the bushes 
into the road, just in time to see her disappearing with 
her dog around a turn in the road. 

“ What the devil can possibly bring a woman into 
this solitude, and riding, too, at a break neck gallop 
straight into the devil’s den. By Jove! I’ll see what 
this strange proceeding means.” So saying he followed 
the mysterious rider as rapidly as possible, only pausing 
now and then for breath, until he came within hearing 
of the quick beat of the horse’s feet upon the rocky path- 
way, when he slackened his speed and crept stealthily 
along. 

Arthur KUsmere was undeniably a handsome man,' 
tall and fair, with soft, curling brown locks, and a merry 
twinkle in the large, lustrous blue eyes that had proved 
irresistible to many a daughter of the sunny south. No 
wonder Fay Banning still dreamed of him, though she 
deemed him false to her. 

His striking hunting costtmie set off to advantage his 
handsome figure, while the squirrel tails drooping from 
his slouch hat added a picturesque air to his whole ap- 
pearance. 

At length the rider passing down a steep, rocky path, 
and emerged into a little clearing, partly grown up with 
briars and sumacs. At the farther side of the clearing, 
on a knoll, stood a log-cabin with a huge stone chimney 
built at one end. This was the home of the Bargers. 

The rider alighted, peered carefully around and lis- 
tened. Satisfied that she was not followed, she securely 
fastened her horse, commanding the dog to lie down and 
watch, and started for the cabin. When about half way 
two ugly looking dogs set up a discordant barking, and 


24 


FAY BANNING. 


came tearing down the path to meet her. She paused, 
and tremblingly grasped her revolver, when an old hag 
appeared in the doorway, and in a low, guttural voice 
silenced the dogs over which she seemed to have perfect 
control. As the visitor drew near the door and the old 
hag stepped out to meet her, she trembled visibly as 
she stood, for the first time in her life, face to face with 
“ old mother Barger,” the witch. The coarse gray hair 
of the hideous creature was hanging about her shoulders 
in disordered mats, her lantern jaws, her nose like an 
eagle’s beak, nearly meeting the sharp chin over the 
toothless mouth, made her a most uncanny looking 
object. She wore a loose, dirty gown, covered with 
grotesque figures, was bent with extreme old age, and 
leaned on a staff. 

The stranger, advanced, lifted her veil and spoke: 

“Is this mother Barger? ” 

“Surely, surely you have spoken it aright,” answered 
the old crone, grinning hideously. 

“Who are you, and what errand brings you to the 
reader of the stars, who' can peer into the dim, uncertain 
future in this lonely spot where woman is loth to travel 
alone, my fine lady?” said mother Barger, closely scru- 
tinizing her. 

“Maybe you are an instrument in the hands of the 
hounds of the law — oh, curse them — sent to spy on my 
Jimmie. They have my poor son Dan shut up in a dark 
prison — oh, a thousand curses on them — and now may- 
hap they are after my last boy,” she said, fairly scream- 
ing, and rising, she shook her cane and quaked like j.n 
aspen leaf. 

“ It is not to disturb your peace that brings me here, 
mother Barger, but if you and your son but do my will 
you shall have enough money to keep you all your 
declining years. If you but keep my secret and do my 


FAY BANNING. 


25 


bidding 37-011 may name your price,” said the strange 
person, recoiling from the old witch’s cudgel. 

“Oh, money is it that you offer. Money! Money! 
I want money! ” she said, stretching forth her long, 
bony fingers as in the act of receiving it, her eyes 
glittering like a snake’s. She motioned her visitor to a 
seat on a bench beside the cabin, and seated herself on a 
stool. 

“I am safe,” whispered the woman. “It is evident 
she would sell her soul for money.” 

“ A secret have you, my lady? Aye, yes; you have 
a deep secret, but good luck is in store for you. You 
were born under a lucky star. Old mother Barger 
knows your heart, but will keep your secret safely 
locked within her bosom, and you, alone, shall hold the 
key. Money! aye, yes; I want money,” repeated the 
old hag, as she rocked back and forth. 

“ Is 370 ur son at home? ” 

“ Not far from home. He can be easily found. What 
would 3"ou have with him ?” 

The strange woman arose, threw a piece of gold into 
the old hag’s lap, confronted her, looking straight into 
her e3"es, saying: 

“ Mother Barger, for that piece of gold will you swear 
by the God who made you, never to reveal the secret I 
am about to entrust to you — something that will be a 
benefit to you and your family if you but enter into the 
plot, and nothing to harm one hair of 3^our old, gray 
head if you do not. Do you solemnly promise ? ” 

“ Who ever heard of old Mother Barger revealing any- 
thing that would bring her money ? He 1 he ! he ! he ! 
Money ! I want money ! ” 

I am Celia Tewksburry. You know me now. My 
stepmother’s first husband, before he died, willed her his 
fortune. After he made this will his mind became weak, 


26 


FAY BANNING. 


and his daughter, Fay, wheedled the old imbecile into 
making another will and hiding it somewhere. As it 
was not produced after his death, mamma, by undisputed 
right, held the property. To-day mamma saw old 
Remus, a servant, find a mysterious looking iron box, in 
which she thinks may be the last will and testament of 
Mr. Banning. All the blacks loved Fay Banning, and 
sometimes have been overheard talking about a hidden 
box. We think old Remus suspects what may be in the 
box, for he carefully hid it again, and probably will 
return for it to-night. If this box contains the will, we 
wish to have him disposed of in some way, so that he 
will tell no tales. If we take the box and let old Remus 
go, that daring devil, Arthur Ellsmere, who lives below 
us, would harass us to our graves. He accuses mamma 
and I of a conspiracy to separate him from Fay Banning, 
to w^hom he was betrothed, and takes a fiendish delight, 
when he is at home, in annoying us. Curse him, I could 
kill him,” she hissed through her set teeth. “He is 
just home from one of his wild goose chases after that 
Fay Banning. He spends his time scouring the woods 
for game while home, and you can never tell when you 
may run afoul of him. I heard the report of a gun near 
the road where I was passing, coming up the valley, and 
I tremble from fear, lest he saw me and followed me.” 

“Curse him! curse him!” screamed old mother 
Barger, rising and beating the nearest object wrathfully 
with her cane. “ Didn’t he help the sleuth hounds of 
the law hunt down my poor Danny ? Old mother Bar- 
ger may yet live to see him repaid for his hellish work. 
Oh, my poor Danny,” she wailed, “my poor Danny.” 

“Do 3'OU suppose Jim Barger will take care of old 
Remus for us ? If he will, he may name his own price.” 

‘ ‘ That he will and do it well. He would think no 
more of slashing his old throat than’ he would of slicing 


FAY BANNING. 


27 


a watermelon. My daughter-in-law, Jimmy’s wife, can 
help do the deed. Hey, Bird ! ” called the old hag, and 
Bird Barger appeared in the doorway. She was cleanly 
dressed, and but for the look of shame in her downcast 
face, was rather pretty. 

“ Yes, Jim and Bird I am sure will serve you if you 
pay the price. Money ! money ! I want money ! Many 
a plot has old mother Barger hatched and clucked them 
out in the night to do dark deeds and back again. You 
go back down the valley, to the ford across the creek, and 
await the coming of Jim Barger. Bird, go tell Jim to 
meet this lady at the Wolf’s Glen Ford. Tell him all 
the lady has told me, you heard our conversation, for I 
saw you spying, you huzzy, and lose no time, for the 
afternoon wanes. See that you travel a little faster than 
at a snail’s gallop.” 

Bird Barger, started up a rocky ravine back of the 
cabin in search of her liege lord, where, no doubt, he was 
secretly engaged, is some obscure cave among the rocks, 
brewing “mountain dew.” 

Celia Tewksburry bade old mother Barger adieu, and 
hurried away. Mounting her horse, she rode rapidly 
down the glen to the ford and, dismounting, awaited 
impatiently the coming of Jim Barger, the denizen of the 
woods. The moments dragged. Presently .she heard 
footsteps, and Jim Barger, followed by his wife, stalked 
into her presence. 

He was a burly, roaring rough, the terror of the 
country round, which rung with stories of his lawless 
acts and blood-curdling crimes. He was broad shoul- 
dered and double-jointed, with short, curly, red hair, 
and a bluff countenance, having a mingled air of craft 
and deviltry. He was far famed for his herculean frame 
and great powers of limb, on account of which he had 
received th^ name of Bull Barger. He was always ready 


28 


FAY BANNING. 


for either a fight or malicious mischief. He had several 
boon companions of his own stamp, who regarded him 
as their model, and, with him as their leader, they 
scoured the country for miles around, committing count- 
less deeds of depredation. He had always been careful 
to evade the clutches of the law, but of late had grown 
exceedingly bold. 

Bird Barger had once been his superior but her mar- 
riage had dragged her down to his level. 

Celia Tewksberry at first shrank from Jim Barger’s 
presence, but nerving herself, addressed his Satanic 
majesty ; 

“ Your wife has doubtless explained my mission here. 
Do I meet you on negotiating terms, or is my coming 
futile?” 

“The-e devil, woman 1 I can’t grip such high ker- 
flutin’ language as that. Ye’ll have to talk plain to Jim 
Barger, who has never been to school. Try ag’in an’ 
I’ll do my dangdest to drink ’er in. Ready — now — 
stiddy,” he said, placing his hands behind his ears, in 
derision to catch her meaning. 

“Do you understand the cause for my visit here ? ” 
she said, with spirit. 

“Exactly. That’s better. I do, marm. Gfve me 
enough money, and James Barger, Esquare is at yer 
service.” 

“How much do you want, should it come to the 
worst ? ” 

“ Five thousand dollars, an’ I’ll skulp the hull valley, 
if it has to be done. Go from ‘ Bar Sheby to Dan’l.’ ” 

Celia Tewksburry drew a heavy breath of relief. 

“ To-night at dark, creep up from the clump of butter- 
nut trees, down by the river, to the sycamore that stands 
back of the stables, for further orders. Do you under- 
stand ? ” 


FAY BANNING. 


29 


“I do.” 

“ Be careful,” she said, and springing into the saddle, 
was off. 

” My Lord, how she scooted ! ” laughed Jim Barger, 
as Celia disappeared down the glen. “ ’Fraid of me. 
Bird,” he said, gruffly addressing his dogged wife, “I’ll 
need help to do this job. You go over the hill to Nat 
Beggs’, an’ tell him what’s in the wind, and that I’ll 
need help to git that old nig away, an’ to meet me at the 
mouth of the creek; an’ lose no time, for its already 
three o’clock, an’ we’ve five miles to walk. 

“ Oh, Jim, I beg you, for God’s sake, don’t have any 
more blood on our hands. I grow sick to think of it 
agin. I wish you’d kill me an’ put me out of my misery 
for I can’t, oh, I can’t, lead this kind of life any longer,” 
she cried. 

The brute struck her a stinging blow on the cheek, 
and fairly yelled: 

“You miserable wench 1 Don’t provoke me to do any- 
thing rash, for I’d as soon knock your brains out as to 
take a drink of water. You make tracks now for Beggs, 
do you hear ? ” 

She looked at him a moment with mingled fear and 
defiance and then, without a word, turned to do his 
bidding. 

Bird Barger was an orphan and had lived an outcast 
among the poor whites, and so became an easy prey to 
the spoiler. 

She had been led astray by this inhuman wretch, when 
but a mere child. He had married her, be it said to his 
credit, but what a life she led — a victim to the taunts 
and blows of old mother Barger, and a tool for a brutal 
husband. 

She is like some tender tree, with the worm preying 
at the heart, and causing it to to wither when it should 


30 


FAY BANNING. 


be most fresli and luxuriant. We see it drooping its 
branches to the earth, and shedding leaf by leaf, until, 
withered and dying, it falls into the stillness of the 
forest. 

Jim Barger looked a moment after Bird as she disap- 
peared, then muttered : 

“ I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that wretched thing 
don’t let the cat out o’ the bag. vShe is gittin’ rather 
pious of late an’ ef I turn preacher some day, ha! ha! ha! 
what a help my wife will be to me, to go round makin’ 
circus rides an’ pasture calls. If she squeals on me in 
this job. I’ll send her to the happy huntin’ grounds, 
and lively, too. If that EUsmere knew of this box 
wouldn’t he be on hands though, like a nigger to a 
dance? How I wish it was him to be jugged instid of 
that ole nigger, I’d soon have him over Jordan. Well, 
I mus’ be a dodgin’,” and he shambled off. 

Arthur KUsmere had followed the mysterious rider to 
the clearing, but seeing no way of getting near enough 
to see who it was without being discovered, sauntered 
slowly back up the road, and, finding a good place to 
secrete himself, awaited the return of the stranger. He 
had not long to wait, for he had scarcely settled himself 
to his satisfaction when he perceived her riding rapidly 
up the path. 

” Whew,” he muttered, under his breath, “it’s Celia 
Tewksburry I What devilment’s afloat now !” and when 
she dismounted and sat down, perilously near his hiding 
place, to await the coming of Barger, his surprise and 
curiosity was redoubled. 

And when the outlaw and his wife appeared, he lis- 
tened with intense interest to what passed beween them. 

He observed, with burning indignation, the cowardly 
blow which Jim Badger gave his wife, and with difficulty 
restrained his impulse to return it in kind. After the 


KAY BANNING. 


31 


departure of the wicked plotters, he came out into the 
road, soliloquising thus: 

“‘There is something rotten in Denmark.’ Celia 
Tewksburry conspiring with the Bargers. What does it 
all mean ? Bird Barger begging for mercy for some poor 
\vretch. ‘James Barger, Esquire’ in his masterly 
soliloquy speaks of the interest I might manifest in a 
box, were I to be present at the ‘fireworks,’ and deeply 
regrets that I cannot be there to participate in this 
evening’s exercises. I’ll try and be there James, and 
I’ll come early, to avoid a crowd.’’ 

Arthur Ellsmere straightened himself up to his full 
height, and trembled with rage. 

“Aha, my siren ! I think I know what your ‘ box ’ 
contains. You will find you are not dealing with gentle, 
guileless Fay Banning now,’’ and he set out for home 
through the woods at a lively walk. 

“Oh, Fay,’’ he murmured, as the tears welled up to 
his eyes, “ If I could only find you, and at your feet, no 
matter how you might spurn me, tell you I was true 
when you must have thought me false, else how could 
you have left me. I have wandered in many climes 
since I saw you, but strange scenery and faces fail to 
erase your memory. Society and different kinds of 
occcupation and amusement fail to dissipate my grief, 
and wean me from the remembrance of Fay Banning. 
This stroke of bitterness I feel more and more every day 
— the vital seat of happiness of my soul is scathed and 
scorched and forever blasted. What is life to me now 
but a walk in a sad reverie. Say that people do not die 
of broken hearts ! I confess it, I believe they do. I do 
not consider love a malady; yet, I firmly believe that 
unrequited love has brought many a one to an untimely 
grave.’’ 

As he hurried along through the woods, homeward, 


32 


I^AY BANNING. 


he wondered if his conjecture as to what the strange box 
might contain was correct and why it was that in con- 
nection blood was about to be spilled. 

Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the 
afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain 
herbage, that crowned a precipice back of his father’s 
plantation. He saw below him the Kentucky, moving 
on its silent but majestic course, and at last losing itself 
in the blue highlands. Presently he descended the hill 
and made straight for the negro quarters, back in the 
fields from the house. He rapped at the door of a neat, 
whitewashed cabin, and the rap was answered by a hale 
colored woman. 

“W’y fo’ Ian’ sake ! how yo’ do, Mars Arthur. Yo’ 
am lookin’ so tired, deah boy. Kaim in an’ rest 5^0’ 
weary body.” 

“No, thank you, aunt Dinah. I havn’t time to 
stop. Where is uncle Mose ? ” 

“Oh, pokin’ round out dar in de cabbage, ’tendin’ to 
be hoein’. He’s gettin’ lazier ebry day he live. Hey, 
yo’ Mose!” called aunt Dinah, “come heah, Mars 
Arthur am heah to see ye.” 

Uncle Mose came lumbering along toward the cabin. 
He was a powerfully built negro, brimming over with 
good nature. 

“ Ain how Mars Arthur fin’ hiself today ? ” he said, 
taking a seat beside the cabin door, and fanning himself 
with his straw hat. 

“ Very well, only a little tired. Uncle Mose, I am in 
need of your assistance this evening. ’ ’ 

He related what had occured, and as the story ad- 
vanced Mose’s eyes wider and wider grew, till they 
seemed about to start from their sockets. When Arthur 
had finished, he exclaimed: 

“ Fo’ de I^o’d’s sake 1 What’s gwine to happen ? ” 


FAY BANNING. 


33 


think some of the blacks have a box, and refuse to 
give it up, which the Tewksburrys think may contain 
the last will made by Mr. Banning. They want to get 
it into their own hands and conceal the fact of its discovery . 
And I think they are preparing to have the finder put 
out of the way, that he may tell no tales. I will try to 
find out what this box contains, and prevent any blood- 
shed. Now, Uncle Mose, what do you say to going 
along with me and see what their game is, anyway ? ” 
By jocks!” I make all possible preparations to 
insist ye,” said Mose, springing to his feet. 

‘ ‘ As soon as it begins to grow dusk we will go back 
of the fields and down the ravine to the right of the 
house, and see what the night-hawks are up to. We 
will arm ourselves for any emergency. Keep your own 
counsel, uncle Mose. Tell no one our plans.” 

” Not much, he 1 he I he I he I uncle Mose been spilin’ 
fo’ a muss dis yeah long time, ho I ho 1 ho 1 ho 1 ” 

Arthur hurried across the fields homeward to prepare 
for the coming encounter. 

Mose was widely known for his feats of strength. 
Though peaceable as a lamb, yet no one cared to dispute 
his right of way. Arthur was a great favorite with all 
the darkies and especially with Mose. When small, 
Arthur would run to share his dainties with him, and 
spent a great deal of time following him in the fields. 
When Mose had any leisure time, he would often stroll 
in the fields and forest with little Fay Banning and 
Arthur, picking wild flowers, or fishing in the streams 
for trout, the special delight of the children. 

Such was the love of Mose for Arthur, that he fain 
would have followed him an 3 ^where, and was ever ready 
to do his bidding. 

Uncle Mose had only one thing to disturb his tranquil- 
ity. Unfortunately his domestic affairs were unpleasant. 


u 


I^AY banning. 


His termagant wife, Dinah, was kind at heart, but a 
virago with her tongue. Mose generally preferred the 
outside of the cabin for comfort, and often sat by the 
cabin door whistling or singing, while Dinah scolded a 
perfect storm within. 

“ Pesky, lazy, fat, ole critter,” she often said, “will 
be too lazy to git up on the ressurectin’ mawnin’, an’ 
call fer his victuals sent to him.” A tart temper does 
not mellow with age; neither does the tongue — a two- 
edged sword — grow dull with use. Aunt Dinah, of late, 
had grown more malicious than ever. Provoked beyond 
endurance with Mose, who sat wdiistling or singing when 
storms of life were hardest, she would sometimes hurl 
an old boot or a shoe, or a washbasin of water through 
the window at him, when he would move off at a safer 
distance, singing: 

“ In de pi easant summer wedder, 

W’en de days was long an’ fair, 

I goes strollin’ down the medder 
Pickin’ ob de wile flowers dar.” 

When Arthur had departed she came forward to the 
door and broke forth with: 

“Now, I’ll warrant ye. Yo’s ready to breed a scab 
on yo’ ole nose agin. W’y didn’t you tell Mars Arthur 
to fight his own battles. Yo’ ain’t spunk nuff fo’ a 
louse,” and with that she let the rolling pin fly, which 
fortunately, just missed his head. Uncle Mose betook 
himself to safer quarters forthwith, and awaited the 
coming of Arthur, who soon returned, and after equipping 
Mose, they marched off, like knights-errant of old. 

Uncle Remus, whom we left awaiting the coming of 
night, to regain possession of the box, crept stealthily 
forth, as darkness fell, and made his way back to where 
he'had hidden it. 


Pay banning. 


35 


As he crept cautiously along lie thought he heard 
footsteps behind him. He trembled; his heart beat fast; 
he paused and listened breathlessly. Again all was silent, 
save the distant hoot of an owl on the mountain-side. 

He then preceded, scarcely daring to breathe. The 
night was intensely dark, and when he came to where he 
had left the box, he got down on his hands and knees, 
and removing the loose earth with one hand, felt 
carefully about. 

To his great joy, his hand soon came in contact with 
what he knew to be the coveted prize. He grasped it 
and rose to his feet. 

He was in full view of the house, and saw that it was 
brilliantly illuminated, and as the hall door was opened, 
and a flood of light swept across the lawn, he saw Miss 
Celia Tewksburry and several other persons, standing 
near the gate. 

He was startled, but as their faces were turned from 
him, he was reassured and mentally ejaculating “ Dey 
can’t see me in this dawkness,” started quickly for 
home. 

But just then several dark forms were suddenly out- 
lined in his path, and he felt his throat gripped as in a 
vise by the hand of a strong man, and a hoarse voice 
hissed in his ear: “Hand over that box, you black 
thief, and then we’ll put you where you’ll tell no tales,” 
while a female voice, which he knew to be that of 
Madame Tewksburry, cried in a suppressed tone, but 
with intense fury, “ I saw your game and guessed what 
you had found. You would see me ousted from here, 
you miserable, black scamp. I have been warming a 
serpent to sting me, by being kind to you. Drag him 
along to the vault,” she commanded, taking the box 
from the poor old creature’s unresisting hand, “and if 
I find things as I think they are, you will never come 
out alive.” 


36 


FAY BANNING. 


Just at that instant^ two' other forms seemed to rise 
suddenly out of the darkness, and Jim Barger released 
his hold on the old man’s throat as he was felled to the 
ground by a stunning blow, and almost at the same 
instant, his assistant, the worthy Beggs, was also sent 
reeling to the earth. 

Arthur seized the coveted box from Madame Tewks- 
burry, who fled, with piercing screams, from the spot. 

Uncle Remus, though almost dead with fright, mur- 
mured faintly, “ De Lawd be praised.” 

Arthur, inwardly congratulating himself, started in 
another direction with his prize, when he was struck 
senseless by a blow from a club in the hands of a strange 
person, who seized the wonderful box and sped silentty 
away in the darkness. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Daily telegrams from Mr. Deland, proclaimed his slow 
recovery. 

Fern continued to improve in health until, by the 
middle of July, she was able to leave her room. 

One beautiful afternoon, as she and Fay were .sitting 
in a lodge in the park. Fern basking in the warm sun- 
shine as it shimmered through the trellis work, Mrs. 
Rouncer brought them some letters. 

Fern recognized the handwriting on one letter as her 
father’s, and giving a little cry of delight, tore open the 
seal. 

The letter read as follows. 

New Orleans, July 20th, 18— 

My precious little Fern: 

How I long to see you. I am able to sit up to-day; am very 
weak, however. If my health permitted I would come to you at 
once. Dr. advises me to go to Colorado as soon as I am able to 
travel; says the mountain air will be good for me. I think I will 
go. If I do, I wish you and Faith to go to hong Branch, and 
remain through the warm weather — August. 

Will wire my condition every day. 

Your affectionate father, 

Guy Deeand. 

Fern kissed the letter many times. 

“ Oh, how I would love to see dear papa today! If I 
felt strong enough for the journey, I would start for 
home to-morrow. I will tell you what I think, Faith: 
I think papa has consumption; otherwise, why would 
doctor advise him to go to Colorado. That is generally 
the last resort for consumptives.” 

Fern broke down completely, and cried long and 
bitterly. 


37 


38 


FAY BANNING. 


“ My dear child,” pleaded Fay, ” what you need to do 
now is to let God into your heart. Let him have com- 
plete control of you and your crosses will be easy to 
bear. Oh, the perfect peace and joy that I receive, from 
putting my whole trust in Him and serving Him! When 
I am down-cast I find I am weak in faith. ‘ Yea, though 
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I wih 
fear no evil; for thou art with me.’ It means so muci. 
to be able to say, ‘Thy will, not mine, be done. ’ I know of 
only one sin that weighs on my soul. It is this: I have 
deceived you, Fern, precious little darling, all the years 
I have known you, by living under an assumed name. 
My name is not-Faith-Fariday-but — ” and the blue eyes 
filled with tears. 

Fern grew pale at the expectation of something tragic. 

“ Not-Faith-Fariday ? Girl are you mad? You rave. 
I shall call Mrs. Rouncer. Mrs. Rouncer!” she shrieked. 

Fay placed her hand over her mouth. ” Hush! hush! 
Fern! You will frighten Mrs. Rouncer into hysterics 
with such screaming. Listen while I tell you,” and 
Fay sat down by her side. 

” Not-Faith-Fariday but — Who-are-you-then?” fal- 
tered poor, frightened, little Fern. 

” Not Faith Fariday but — Fay Banning.” continued 
Fay, kissing her. ‘‘I will tell you why I changed my 
name when I come to live in your home.” 

Fay related the story of her life which is already 
knowm to the reader. Fern eagerly listened, at times 
wiping the tears from her eyes, as the orphan told of the 
cruelties practiced on her by the two intriguing women 
who were now living in luxury in her home; and con- 
cluded by saying it had been a foolish idea for her to 
change her name, as there was little danger of their 
molesting her now — they were only too glad to be rid of 
her. 


FAY BANNING. 


39 


Ah, Fay Banning! little you dream of the serpent that 
will soon lie in your very path. Be careful lest you feel 
his fangs. 

“ Will you forgive me, Fern, fcr the deception ? ” 

“ Forgive you — forgive 3^011, no! I will never forgive 
you until 3^011 go back and scratch the eyes out of that 
venomous and fork-tongued, reptile, Celia, and I mean 
it, too. Miss Banning!” 

Fay laughed and Fern resumed; 

‘‘So far as changing your name is concerned, haven’t 
you a perfect right to a ‘ nom de plume,’ if you choose to 
have one, you- sweet old bunch of pansies ? It will seem 
strange, for awhile no doubt, to call 3^011 Fay, but what 
a beautiful name that is. During your Scriptural talk I 
felt real sanctimonious, and really began to think of 
angel-dovm. But I have completely backslidden hearing 
the story of the two vixens who have usurped your home, 
I hope some day to meet them. I will pounce upon 
them like the cat pounces upon the mouse,” and she 
nearly pounced out of her seat. ” You are entirely too 
good. Fay. Let people trample on 3"ou like that. In 
such extreme cases patience ceases to be a virtue. You 
say Celia has been to see aunt Isabelle. Sort of cousin- 
ing around. Let her come when I’m there and I’ll 
dance the war dance for her.” 

‘‘Oh, don’t talk so. Fern.” 

“And Polly Dutton has smelled the rat already, too. 
She is so charitable at such times.” 

“To change the unpleasant subject: when shall we 
start for Long Branch, Fern? I am sorry your papa 
desires us to go there. I prefer the quietness of Glen 
Hazel to the glare and bustle of giddy societ3^, which 
you meet at any fashionable watering place. Anyway, 
I have grown tired of the hollowness and conventionality 
of the fashionaljle world. The coquetting one s^es is very 
distasteful to me,” 


40 


FAY BANNING. 


“ Cantankerous old maid!” saucily. ‘‘The coquet- 
ting one sees is very pleasing to me, especially if it be 
a superannuated belle, holding out a baited hook for the 
most sought for of all good earthly things — a husband. 
We go to Long Branch, Miss Banning, notwithstanding 
your fastidious scrupulosity. I become enamored of 
‘Chollie,’ um — ah 1” she said, rising and going through 
the most ridiculous contortions of the body, in imitation 
of a swell. ‘‘No poodles! Um — ah? Chollie won’t 
allow a poodle to come between him and ‘ his deah 
Fewn.’ ” 

‘‘ Fern, why do you delight in such frivolity? If you 
wish to be admired by cultured people — now that we 
are about to enter society again — never display your- 
self in that manner before them. Come, my little clown, 
we must prepare for tea,” said said Fay, rising, ‘‘and I 
beg of you — yes, insist, (trying to look austere) — if we go 
to Long Branch this year, that you maintain a dignity 
which you have not possessed heretofore. You are 
becoming too old to — ’ ’ 

‘‘ Yes, and infirm,” drawled Fern. 

‘ ‘ To indulge in so much buffoonery. I feel it my 
duty to preach you good doctrine,” Fay laughed, ‘‘ and 
trust you will become a perfect model of modesty.” 

‘‘Yes, Fay, I will wear a little poke bonnet at Long 
Branch to hide my demure face, and move about with 
such a quaker air 'and say ‘ I pray thee, gentle Fay, ven- 
ture not too near the rolling deep lest thy foot slip and 
lettest thy fair young form into the seething waters — ” 
She did not finish for Fay impulsively caught her in 
her arms and covered the red lips with kisses, declaring 
she wouldn’t have her any other than the little elf that 
she was for the world, and encircling her waist with her 
arm, the two girls passed merrily into the house. 


FAY BANNING. 


41 


At the tea-table that evening, Fay met with the mis- 
fortune to upset a dish of preserves upon her dress. 

Fern, after looking at her a moment, burst into a ring- 
ing laugh. 

“Why I am shocked, Miss Banning, to think that 
yon, with all your grace and dignity, should make such 
a blunder. Now that we are about to enter polite 
‘ sassiety ’ again, I beg, yes, insist,” with a laughable 
imitation of Fay’s assumed austerity when advising her 
in proper deportment, “that you act with more prop- 
riety and observe the strict rules of etiquette with 
greater care! If you would be recognized by people of 
culture while at Long Branch, do not be guilty of an act 
like that. If you should do so I would meekly chide 
you and say, ‘ O my child, what ill begets thee to per- 
form such pranks? Have I not done an idolizing 
parent’s part to tame thee, little hawk? Fain would I 
close mine eyes to shut out such scenes that make my 
senses reel — and blood chill. Go to. Shakespeare.” 

Meanwhile Mrs. Rouncer had come to Fay’s assistance 
and was quietly repairing the damage. 

“ Mrs. Rouncer,” Fern went on again, unconsolingly, 
“ why not try the bib and bottle again for the child?” 

“ Hush, you sassy chit,” laughed Mrs. Rouncer. 

“ I deserve a lecture for such carelessness,” said Fay, 
with an indulgent smile. 

“ You have need of it, deep need. 

‘ O, what a noble lass is here o’erthrown! 

The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 

The glass of fashion and the mould of form. 

The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! ’ ” 
said Fern, rising and gesticulating wildly, “ and since I 
cannot become or prove a lover at Long Branch, and in- 
dulge in worldly pleasures as becomes a maid like me, 
I am determmed to prove a villain,'^ and she began madly 
Stabbing the air with her knife, frightening Mrs. 


42 


FAY BANNING. 


Rouncer, who ran toward the door, looking back and ex- 
claiming: 

'' Lord sakes! Is all this brought on by spillin' a few 
presay-vesf Help!'' she shrieked, as she darted out of 
the door, and Fern sat down convulsed with laughter. 

“ Fern, you ought to be heartily ashamed of yourself 
for causing such a hubbub,” said Fay, with a suppressed 
smile. “ Mrs. Rouncer is quite nervous, and it is a pity 
to tax her so. Beside that, she will rouse the whole 
neighborhood. It is evident that you are quite beyond 
my control, and your papa had better send you to Mad- 
ame Bousson’s school this j^ear instead of waiting until 
next.” 

‘‘O, oui; II faut beintot que j’apprenne le Frangais 
pourque je soit plus instruit en belles lettres. Tente 
Isabelle ne pen presque pas attendre pourque je puisse 
converse avec elle fluentment en Frangais.” 

” Vous parresse le comprandre tres bein maintenent,” 
Fay replied. 

At this moment Elijah Tubbs thrust his head in at the 
door looking rather surprised, and then ventured into 
the room. The widow Rouncer had partially succeeded 
in convincing him that Fern was crazy. Fern, instantly 
perceiving the situation, determined to carry the joke to 
the extreme. She mounted a chair in his immediate 
vicinity, and, amid flourishes of her knife, proceeded to 
lecture the awe-stricken Tubbs. 

“ For God — ” he began, backing toward the door. 

“ Blaspheme not the God who created you,” inter- 
rupted Fern, “but pray for rain, Elijah. Truly thou 
art immaculate and a great prophet. Thou didst break 
down every idol and didst slay the prophets of Baal.” 

Meanwhile Elijah was backing slowly tow^rd§ the 
door. Fay hid her face in her hands. 


FAY BANNING. 


43 


“Pause, Elijah Tubbs, right where you are,” Fern 
commanded, majestically waving her hand. 

Elijah halted and with mouth agape stood spell-bound. 

“Scarcely a century ago,” the actress began, “in 
this very valley, through which wends the lordly 
Hudson, transpired an event which led to the tragic 
death of the young and noble Major Andre. His bones 
rest not in the grave but cry out by day and by night 
for an avenging angel. The gentle zephyrs that bring 
the scent of new mown hay from the back meadows, 
bear voices on their wings that cry unto me saying: ‘ Go 
Fern Fairfax’ Iceland and scatter death and destruction 
abroad until his death is avenged.’ Now, I, Spijt den 
Duyvel (spitting devil) dub thee knight, ‘Elijah Tubbs, 
and your cognomen shall be Desmond the Blood Hunter. 
And you shall mount a spirited steed and his name shall 
be ‘ Rosinante.' And you shall go forth ere another rosy 
morn has dawned, and with your trumpet sound the 
alarm along the pastoral borders of the Zuyder Zee — 
startling the wild wang-a-wang from its lair — arousing 
the rugged yeomanry of the Weehawken and Hoboken — 
awaking the wild solitudes of the Croton — and the brave 
boys and chivalric men of Tarry Town and Sleepy Hol- 
low-charging them one and all to take down their 
fowling pieces, long since grown rusty from disuse, and 
march merrily off to the wars. Home from the conquest, 
brave knight-errant, you shall take Emily, whom I shall 
henceforth know as Ardelia the divine, and settle down 
in a snug little cabin on some romantic knoll. From 
your back porch on a summer’s eve you can listen to the 
rippling of brooks, sighing of the breezes, the bleating of 
the lambS; and reflect w^hat fine mutton they will make 
in the near future; then the lowing of the kine, as they 
come winding o’er the lea, with leek-scented breaths, the 
squealing of the shoat, and all rural sounds that greet 


44 


FAY BANNING. 


the rustic’s ear. When night throws her dark mantle 
around your angelic form, you can go inside, take down 
the violin from a peg on the wall and start up a sweet 
symphony — ‘ Old Zipp Coon,’ or ‘ Arkansaw Traveler.’ 
Now, I dub thee knight,” and with that she made a wild 
leap and struck Elijah a sharp blow on the cheek with 
her knife-blade. 

Elijah Tubbs waited for no more. He made his exit 
even faster that the widow Rouncer had done. 

An owl is no more dazed with the glare of the mid- day 
sun than was Fay Banning at this eccentric jargon. She 
could conceal her mirth no longer, but sat down breaking 
into an irresistable peal of laughter. 

Never did Caesar exert the mind and body more in 
haranguing the Roman populace than did Fern in 
orating Elijah Tubbs. At the conclusion of her speech 
she sank down into a chair from utter exhaustion. At 
length, gaining sufficient strength to enable her to walk, 
she started for her room, while Fay went in quest of the 
refugees, who had taken shelter in the wood-house 
where she found them recounting and comparing their 
late adventures and most miraculous escape. In vain 
did she try to convince them that it was not uncommon 
for Fern to wax oratorical — though it was something 
unusual for her to air her powers in that direction in the 
presence of anyone except herself— but she assured them 
it was only practiced for a joke. 

Mrs. Rouncer would persist that Fern was insane — 
that she had noticed strange freaks in the girl since her 
illness, and ended the council with a “hefty” declara- 
tion that she would sleep no more in the house while 
Fern remained and was allowed her freedom. Elijah 
also manifested a determination ‘ ‘ to keep one eye 
skinned while she was loose.” So the verdict rendered 
in the trial of the young maniac was, that Mrs. Rouncer 


FAY BANNING 


45 


would sleep at the tenement with Kmily and “ the boys,” 
while Elijah was to sleep and snore, with one eye open, 
in the wood-house loft, and keep guard at the manor. 

Fay returned to the house at a loss to know what to 
do. She knew it would not be best to let Fern know the 
state of affairs, as she would make night hideous for the 
widow and the Tubbs, who were somewhat given to 
superstition, and did believe the prevalent tales of ghosts 
often recited by plebeans in that locality. 

She slipped quietly upstairs and advised Fern to retire 
early as she was looking so tired. As for herself she in- 
tended to go over and spend the night, she said, with 
little Mary Moore, who was very sick. She cautioned 
Fern not to call Mrs. Rouncer for anything if she could 
avoid it, not intimating, however, that Mrs. Rouncer, 
who was traveling at this very moment for the Tubbs’ 
cottage, would not be “at home.” Completing her ar- 
rangements, she left the house. 

The Moores lived in a wretched little hovel between 
Glen Hazel and the village. The husband and father 
was a drunkard, and Mrs. Moore, with the help of her 
little ten year old Mary, had managed to get bread 
for her little flock until Mary, overburdened wdth the 
care of the smaller ones, had at last succumbed to spinal 
disease. 

When Fay entered the house she found a dearth of 
everything needed for human comfort. In one corner of 
the room, on the floor, lay the father of the sick child in 
a drunken stupor. In another corner, on a miserable 
little bed of rags, lay little Mary. 

The mother, sobbing as if her heart would break, was 
bending over her trying to soothe the little sufferer, who 
was dying. Fay drew near the bedside, and saw in the 
little pale, sweet face traces of her early cares, her suf- 
ferings and fatigues, and saw, too, they would soon be 


46 


FAY BANNING 


over. The mother drew the little dying girl closer and 
closer to her bosom, with all a mother’s tenderness and 
yearning love. Fay stepped back to leave mother and 
child alone for the last moment. The gentle Saviour 
had now come to bear the little spirit away. Opening 
her eyes at last she murmured, while a sweet halo shone 
around her face: “ O, isn’t it beautiful, beautiful! 
They have come at last, mamma! Kiss me,” she whis- 
pered faintly, ”and-now-I — ” and the child was asleep 
in Jesus, 

Kind reader, can you portray this mother, in whose 
appearance, even in her abject poverty, is yet seen the 
lingerings of decent pride, as she lays the little Mary, 
her only earthly comfort, down in death — a pauper? 
She lays the dead gently on the pillow and sinks down, 
her head bowed in her hands, but not to weep. Her 
grief is something beyond tears. There is something in 
her heart which passes speech. Not one penny has she 
toward giving her child a decent burial, and the father 
lying in the corner — drunk! God of heaven! How long 
must this curse of all nefarious curses — rum — exist; fill- 
ing hell with drunkards and sending women and little 
innocent children down into untimely graves? 

A few of the neighboring poor were present giving 
what sympathy they could, and willing to help as much 
as their scanty means would allow. 

Fay Banning knelt beside the mourner and asked God 
to comfort this afflicted soul, and give her strength to 
bear her bitter grief. O, what a burden was lifted from 
that poor woman’s heart, as the sweet voice of the girl 
pathetically asked the heavenly Father to remember the 
poor and the afflicted, in the dark hours of bereave- 
ment! Presently she arose and asked if there was any- 
one in the room who would accompany her home on an 
errand. She would soon return. An old lady ventured 
to answer: 


PAY BANNING. 


47 


“ There’s Manner Cook, setin’ over there in the cor- 
ner, steepin’ on her chair. I should think she could be 
spared as well as not. She puts me in mind of a big 
pissmirel Manner! Manner! ” she called. Hannah 
opened her eyes, yawned and stretched, and asked what 
was wanted. 

“ Can’t you go home an’ right back agin with this ere 
lady? ” asked the old woman. 

H’ah? ” replied Hannah, as if yet ignorant of what 
was wanted. 

“ Will you please go home with me on an errand ? I 
will soon return,” repeated Fay. 

“Guess I kin,” mumbled the girl. 

They lighted a lantern and went out together. Han- 
nah was the first to break the silence. 

“I feel awful sorry fer Mis’ Moore, so I do,” she said 
yawning. “ Old Moore layin’ there drunk, too, beside 
that dead young un! He’d orter be cowhided! It was 
only day before yesterday that he took Mary out of bed 
and whipped her, what like caused her sudden death, an’, 
knocked Mis’ Moore down fer beggin’ fer mercy’s sake to 
let up.” 

“ Whipped Mary? ” Fay stopped still with astonish- 
ment. “You don’t mean to say he whipped that little 
dying girl? ” 

“Yes, marm, I do. He cut that air very caper,” said 
Hannah, showing great indignation. 

Fay Banning was justly angry. 

“The wretch!” she exclaimed. “He shall be pun- 
ished for that inhuman deed, and severely, too.” 

They walked the remaining distance in silence, Han- 
nah wondering what direful calamities would befall ‘ ‘ old 
Moore” for beating Mary, and Fay devising plans to get 
food and clothing for Mrs. Moore and the little ones; and 
also for the funeral. Fay knew her means were quite 


48 


FAY BANNING. 


inadequate to do much, but she would work and solicit 
aid from others. 

When they arrived at the gate Fay remembered having 
left her keys with Elijah Tubbs. So nothing remained 
but to disturb his peaceful slumbers, which were gener- 
ally very profound. Telling Hannah to go up to the 
front door, and wait till she could go around in the rear 
of the house and get her ke3^s. Fay turned to pass the 
guard. Arriving at the wood-house door she paused, 
and listened before sounding an alarm. Loud snoring 
evinced the fact that Elijah was wrapped securely in the 
arms of Morpheus. Fay rapped several times on the 
door, calling his name, then listened. The snoring was 
now appalling. She gave a louder rap at the same time 
shouting his name at the top of her voice. What was 
that which made the wood-house shake and crack from 
foundation to rafters! The chain of slumber that bound 
Elijah had broken and he had rolled out upon the floor. 
Fay called to him to throw down her keys from the garret 
window but no response. Several minutes elapsed and 
she was about to call him again when, lo! the door flies 
open and what a sight meets her eyes! Elijah Tubbs 
sallies forth, clad in an old coat of mail, with a rusty 
sword — a spoil of the American Revolution — dangling at 
his side, while in one hand he carries a lantern and in the 
other he holds a huge revolver — a bulldozer — cocked, 
ready to fire. A bull terrier and a Newfoundland pup 
are his advance guard, and run yelping toward the road. 
Elijah, yelling surrender P' at the top of his voice, 
madly fires into the night. At the same time a voice 
from the chamber window, which Fay recognizes to be 
Fern’s, cries out on the clear midnight air: “ Bear down 
on them, brave knight! Run them down! Remember 
the fate of young Andre! ” 


FAY BANNING. 


49 

Elijah starts in hot pursuit of the dogs. Fay, over- 
whelmed at the sight, sinks down upon the ground, but 
hearing such a commotion from the dogs, in the direction 
of the front door and an occasional shot from Elijah’s 
howitzer, runs to see what tragic fate has befallen Han- 
nah Cook. 


CHAPTER V. 


When Fay arrived on the scene of action, she found 
Hannah Cook “treed” on one of the pillars of the 
veranda, quite out of reach of the dogs. So much for a 
girl’s skill in climbing. The dogs were barking and 
bounding up trying to reach the poor creature, who 
was nearly wild with fright. Hannah, tall, slender and 
wiry, tenaciously hanging to the post, her hair disheveled, 
her stockings down over her shoe tops, her dress torn in 
strings by the dogs before she could get beyond their 
reach, presented a most amusing spectacle. 

Tubbs had ceased firing and was holding his lantern 
high above his head to see whom he had “ treed,” when 
Fay came hurrying up the steps. He turned and cocked 
his revolver to fire, but recognizing Fay, lowered his 
murderous weapon. 

“ Elijah Tubbs! What do you mean by firing around 
in the darkness until you know whom you are firing at,” 
said Fay, sitting down on the steps, gasping for breath. 

Drive away those monsters and assist that poor girl 
down immediately. And now take advice: Never be 
guilty of a rash act like this again. For shame! You 
silly man!” 

The redoubtable Tubbs had surrendered the toils of 
war for the more inglorious arts of peace, ere Fay had 
uttered one sentence and was beseeching the pendant 
Hannah, in the tones of a Romeo, to slip down within 
his reach. 

“ O, Miss Banner, for heaven’s sake help me down, 
and drive off them hungry dogs,” cried the terrified 
girl. “ I didn’t want to come here nohow, I didn’t — ” 

50 


f'AY banning. 


51 


“Slip down, you poor frightened child, and you shall 
not be harmed,” pleaded Fay, now rising. “ The dogs 
are gone. Come down.” 

By slow degrees Hannah slid down the post, pausing 
and peering around with a .wild look, as if she expected 
the attack to be renewed. 

“ My God! I’m afeared she hez lost her reasons,” 
whimpered the crestfallen Tubbs. 

“ It would be no wonder if she had,” retorted Fay. 
“ I don’t feel as if I had many left.” 

By this time Hannah was within embracing distance 
of Tubbs, who, to make amends for human ills, grabbed 
Hannah in his arms. 

“ Let go of me, you tarnal fool,” shrieked Hannah, 
slapping him in the face and freeing herself. “ Pap’ll 
pay you for this ’ere job. I hain’t nawthin’ now to wear 
to the funeral,” said she, holding up her dress which was 
in strings, for inspection. Infuriated at her forlorn con- 
dition, Hannah gave a scream like the eagle swooping 
down upon its prey, and fell tooth and nail upon Elijah 
Tubbs. The prodigies of valor displayed by the com- 
batants have never been paralleled, either by history or 
song. Long hung the contest doubtful. Fern came out 
and joined with P'ay in trying to quell the fight. Han- 
nah w^ould desist a moment, then renew the charge with 
tenfold fury, crying, “I didn’t want to come here nohow, 
so I didn’t. I didn’t want ter be eat up.” Finally 
Elijah threw himself in such an attitude that they suc- 
ceeded in detaching the warlike Hannah. Elijah, acting 
on the advice of the ladies, who were struggling desper- 
ately to hold the heroine, broke and ran, scratched and 
bleeding, to the wood-house loft. 

“Oh, what’ll marm say when she sees my dress?” 
screamed the frenzied girl, struggling to get free. 


52 


FAY BANNING. 


“ You shall have a new dress to replace yours,” said 
Fay, striving to pacify her. “ Come, let us go into the 
house.” 

Hannah, delighted at the prospect of a new gown, al- 
lowed her wrath to cool somewhat, and thus she was 
marched triumphantly into the gilded palace of Glen 
Hazel. Fay left her in the sitting room with Fern, and 
returned to find the bold knight who had retreated to his 
secluded castle, destitute of the glories of war. She 
called to him to rise at daybreak, and bring whatever 
Fern might send to the Moores. 

‘‘Will Hanner Cook be there? ”*he faintly called from 
his fortifications. 

“ If she is she shall not molest you,” answered Fay, 
consolingly 

Fay returned to the house, presented Hannah with 
one of her own dainty gowns, which sent the poor creat- 
ure into ecstasies. She next found material for a shroud, 
then suggested to Fern with what to load Elijah in the 
morning. 

After lighting Fern to bed and kissing her good night, 
Fay and Hannah’ returned to the desolate home of the 
Moores, now the more wretched and sorrowful because 
of the death of the child who had shared as far as possi- 
ble the mother’s cares and labors; who had been the one 
bright sunbeam of that cheerless home. 

But why mourn for her? She has been taken from 
care and toil, from bodily suffering and fatigue, to the 
unending brightness of a Saviour’s love, to the everlast- 
ing joy of her Heavenly Father’s house,. 

She would no more be called “old drunken Moore’s girl” 
by thoughtless children of better fortune; no more be beaten 
by a drunken father and driven out cold and hungry 
to be pelted by pitiless storms. She is safe and 
happy now. And yet the poor hopeless mother sitting 


FAY BANNING. 


53 


there in her first stony grief cannot think of her dar- 
ling’s happiness, but only of her own misery and despair. 

But soon the hush that had fallen over the house was 
rudely disturbed by the father of the dead child. 

He had shaken off enough of his intoxication to rise, 
but too stupefied yet to realize that his child was dead or 
not caring that it was, demanded that all should leave 
the house, as they seemed to disturb his maudlin dreams. 

To enforce the injunction he was menacingly flourish- 
ing a formidable looking poker. All present were 
women and thoroughly frightened. They were not 
standing on the order of their going, but were going at 
once. 

In vain did Mrs. Moore plead with him not to drive 
them away now, when Mary was lying dead — the wretch 
seemed only the more determined. 

Fay, seeing that something must be done to check his 
undisputed sway, mustered all her courage, stepped up 
to him and resolutely commanded him to lay down his 
weapon. 

Greatly incensed with her daring he raised his hand 
to strike, but something in the courageous, undaunted 
countenance of the girl who faced him so boldly, held his 
arm for a moment, but only for a moment. With a mut- 
tered imprecation he again raised his hand to strike, but 
at that instant Hannah Cook, roused to fury at the 
menace to Fay Banning, whom she revered almost as an 
angel, sprang upon him like an enraged tigress, shower- 
ing blows on his head, scratching, biting, kicking, she 
bore him to the floor. Cheated once of her prey that 
night, now she was not going to be thwarted. 

Fay concluded a good trouncing, properly adminis- 
tered to the aggressor, the best expedient under the cir- 
cumstances, stepped back and let the belligerent Hannah 
exercise her pugnacious powers. 


54 


FAY BANNING. 


“ I’lllani ye to strike at Miss Banner,” she shrieked 
“when she has come here to bury yer dead, ye worthless 
hound; she is too good to be looked on by yer worthless 
eyes.” 

The fugitives were by this time gathering back, and 
delighted to see the turn affairs were taking, increased 
Hannah’s pugilistic powers greatly by gathering around. 

“ Peck it tew ’im! ” cried old Mrs. Meeks, who pos- 
sessed a long, snipe-like nose with a watery drop gather- 
ing on the end of it. 

“He needs it; gin ’im besom!” added aunt Hepsy 
Butter worth. 

“Remember old offences!” chimed in prim Harriet 
K. Barber, an ancient maiden lady of some fifty summers, 
adjusting her wig and spectacles. 

“ Lambaste him enough so he’ll call it quits, Hanner,” 
piped old granny Spense, regaling herself with a pinch 
of snuff. 

Old aunt Katrina Van Bumniell exhorted her in elo- 
quent low Dutch to “ fight like one duyvel.” 

Now there are different things that may sober an intoxi- 
cated brain, but I know of nothing quicker than a sound 
flogging, though I would usually hesitate before recom- 
mending it as a specific. In this case, Mr. Stephen 
Moore at last found himself thoroughly sober. And with 
just enough breath left to call for quarter, besought them 
to have mercy, and now thoroughly penitent, cried out 
to name their own terms of surrender. Fay tried to 
restrain Hannah, telling her to cease hostilities, as there 
were prospects of peaces and remembering, too, Mrs. 
Moore’s bitter anguish at witnessing such a scene at that 
particular time bade Hannah rise. 

“Not till he promises certin’ things,” said Hannah 
with great determination, still holding him down. 


FAY BANNING. 


55 


“ What are they? ” he asked in a tremulous voice. 

‘ That you’ll quit driiikin’ an’ lickin’ yer famil}^” she 
quickly rejoined. 

“ Ain’t that makin’ it leetle too strong? ” inquired the 
widow Dodger. 

“Not a grain,” retorted aunt Hepsy Butterworth, 
“ rememberin’ how he’s beat them little childern.” 

Hannah now sat upright still holding Stephen by the 
collar, peering into his bloated face and waving her fin- 
like hand enjoining silence, began the stipulations. 

“ Stephen Moore, do 3^011 solemnly promise, swear and 
infirm that ye’ll never drink licker agin, the longest day 
ye live an’ breathe an’ come home an’ lick Mis’ Moore 
an’ the 3^oung mis’? That, furder; ye’ll go to work an’ 
get bread an’ duds, an’ live decent an’ die inspected by 
all who know ye? That ye’ll live, love and nourish Mis’ 
Moore, an’ not have her workin’ like a pack mule? 

That, too, ye’ll go to the camp meetin’ next week up 
at the corners, and git so chuck full of pure and unde- 
filed religion that ye'll pray, an’ shout an’ holler like a 
sick wild cat, and help old Bilk ins on with the meetin’, 
an’ pray for the convertin’ of the Pagans. Now do you 
promise that this ere covenant holds good as long as the 
sun an’ moon endure, an’ a robin is provided in the 
u oods for the poor widder. Do ye swear? 

“ Yes,” he said faintly. 

“ Be perlite onct in 3^er life, an’ say ‘yes inawm.’ ” 

“Yes niawm,” he said in exact imitation, hoping thus 
to end the compact. 

“That’s a man! Now climb onto yer cornplanters,” 
she said, rising and assisting him to his feet. 

Dejected, humilated and thoroughly sober for the first 
time in many days, he gazed for a time uncomprehend- 
ingly around the room, at the neighbors’ pitying faces, at 
the grief stricken form of the wife whom he had solemnly 


56 


FAY BANNING. 


promised to love, honor and cherish, and at last his wan- 
dering gaze settled on the still form of his dead child. 

Ill days gone by, Stephen Moore had loved his fam- 
ily and had been proud of his wife and children, especially 
the bright eyed, affectionate little Mary, and now wdio 
can tell the thoughts that surged through his brain — the 
awful remorse — the anguish of the thought that he who 
should have been her protector was the cause of the 
misery he saw depicted on the hopeless, despairing face 
of his wife. The wild desire deepened into determina- 
tion to throw off this galling chain which bound him to 
his past life. 

Presently the guilty man arose and tottering across 
the room, laid his hand on Mrs. Moore’s head, looked 
straight at Fay Banning and said: “ Twelve 5^ears ago 
I led Jane Marley to the altar, as pure and noble a girl as 
ever the light of heaven shone on, and there promised to 
love and protect her. For two years I kept that promise 
and our home seemed a little paradise, made so by a lov- 
ing, true and devoted wife. I began tippling with con- 
vivial companions. I went down, sinking lower and 
lower, until to-night that little girl lying there cold in 
death, is the testimony of my hellish career. Now, I 
swear, God helping me, those present as witnesses, 
henceforth, I will lead a sober life, and so live that when 
I am done with earth as to be revered by my family. I 
renew all the promises I made to Hannah Cook. I shall 
love and serve God the rest of my days. ’ ’ 

“ God help him,” Fay murmured fervently. 

” And to you. Fay Banning,” he went on, ” and you 
Hannah Cook, I owe my reformation. May God bless 
you both,” he said, advancing and taking them by the 
hand. Hannah was now sobbing, and tears were in 
every eye in the room. Mrs. Moore’s cup was full. 
With a wild cry of joy she fell forward, fainting. Fay 


FAY BANNING. 


57 


ran to her calling for water which was promptly brought. 
The fainting woman soon revived and began to praise 
God for answering her prayers. Oh what an aching 
void was now filled in that poor woman’s heart! The 
meek and lowly Jesus was there, bearing her yoke. Mr. 
Moore sat down and wept. Fay spoke words of cheer 
and encouragement to the prodigal. 

The succeeding day came bright and clear and with it 
came Polly Dutton, the traveling gazette, “to make 
everybody happy.” She had enlightened the adjacent 
country as to the ruse Faith Fariday, otherwise Fay 
Banniug, had been practicing on them, so when Fay en- 
tered the cottage the evening before, many a sly wink 
and nudge passed around among the old ladies; but it 
was all forgotten now in the boundless benevolence and 
sacrifice shown by Fay to the Moores. 

All day Fay worked untiringly, getting clothes and 
having them made for the family. 

People donated the more liberally hearing of the 
strange pentacostal shower which would add a star to 
Hannah Cook’s crown. 

Elijah Tubbs came early in the morning with food in 
abundance sent by the generous Fern. He kept a sharp 
lookout for the now renowned Hannah, so much so, that 
he tripped and fell over a pumpkin-and-milk colored pup, 
thereby smashing a pail of eggs. He seemed easier in 
mind after Fay ventured the remark that Hannah Cook 
had gone home. 

Polly Dutton labored with hands and tongue. Har- 
riet K. Barber went home quite early in the day. 
“Earlier than she had intended,” she said, “having 
gotten a slash from Polly Dutton.” Polly w^as “ cuttin’ 
an’ fittin,’ ” and the rest sewing when she got around to 
Glen Hazel. 


58 


FAY BANNING. 


“ Old man Hinkley got a big scare last night,” she 
said, peering over her .spectacles at Fay, who was busily 
sewing. 

” What scairt him? ” inquired Nancy Carter. 

” He was cornin’ home from town late,” Polly rejoined, 

‘ ‘and when he got along by Iceland’s the dogs come tearin’ 
out of the wood-house yellin’ an’ someone arter them 
pell-mell, firing one shot right after another. Hinkley run 
a ways, then thought it might be robbers at work, so he 
went back and crept up near the house, an’ behold, just 
in time to see Hanner Cook and Lige Tubbs yoke into a 
mortal combat. Guess Lige got the worst of it for when 
Miss Fariday — Miss Banning I mean — ” giving Fay 
another glance over her spectacles — ” got ’em apart he 
humped his cotton out of that in a hurry.” 

The crimson tide flooded Fay’s face, but she kept 
silent. 

“Like to know what the rumpus was about?” said 
Polly inquiringly. ” I’d like to poke it at Tige. He 
hates anything like that. I do love to make folks 
happy.” 

Still Miss Banning sewed on in silence and Polly was 
not gratified. 

^ jfc 

The bell tolled ten — the funeral knell of Mary Moore. 
The funeral train moved slowly to the grave in a seques- 
tered corner of the churchyard. Some children ran 
about, shouting with unthinking mirth, pausing to gaze 
with childish curiosity at the grief of the mourners. 
The little knot of people that had come — some, merely 
out of curiosity — while a few with pure motives of sym- 
pathy — gathered around that early grave. “Earth to 
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” and the coffin was 
lowered into the grave. A creaking of the cords and a 


FAY BANNING. 


59 


slight jostle of the coffin agonized the mother anew. As 
if harm might come to her who was beyond the reach of 
pain and grief. Then that command in a business tone 
and the sounds that all but paralyze the heart — the ring- 
ing click of the spades and the. rattle of gravel on the 
coffin. 

Fay and Fern could not bear to stand and gaze on the 
scene of parental anguish but wandered to a distant part 
of the churchyard and remained until they saw the 
father and mother slowly and sorrowfully leaving the 
grave. Emily Tubbs was there gazing idly on, with a 
new boy baby, its head lopping over her shoulder, seem- 
ingly too heavy for its neck to support, and rolling its 
goggle eyes around in blank amazement on shifting 
scenes, as if newly arrived from some distant orb. 

Polly Dutton whispered to Harriet K. Barber “that 
Moore’s grief was mostly made, she believed, and before 
two weeks he would be drinking again like a fish.” 
These views were greatly at varience with Harriet K.’s, 
she Slaving great faith in Mr. Moore’s reformation, she 
therefore walked off in high dudgeon, incensed at such 
disparaging remarks from Polly. Polly gazed after her, 
remarking, “ proud old thing. May old Nick take her 
— false teeth, spectacles, wig and all. I do love to make 
folks happy.” But either the immortal gods were walk- 
ing or sleeping, I wot not, for Polly met with a grave 
misfortune which scandalized those who witnessed it, 
especially Harriet K. Barber, of unparalleled modesty.' 
Old Mr. Dutton, Polly’s father, withered and infirm, 
drove his antiquated chariot, drawn by a rat-tail “sorrel,” 
up to the gate, and Polly tripped up the steps, uncon- 
scious of impending fates, to get in. Now it is chroni- 
cled that her frock was alarmingly short. A little 
mischievious breeze came wafting by, and poor Polly 
made a most unexpected display. “Up in a balloon. 


60 


FAY BANNING. 


boys,” shouted the no less mischievous boy then than 
now. Old Mr. Dutton drove away at a sound trot with 
the discomfited Polly. 

Hannah Cook was there and slept through the sermon, 
but at the close, good natured aunt Hepsy Butterworth 
wakened her, and she followed in the procession to the 
grave. But what an appearance she presented. 

Clad in the gown given her by Fay, and which hung 
on her sparse form something like the proverbial bag on 
a beanpole; her frowsy head surmounted by a dilapidated 
straw hat, from whose ample brim, at half mast, hung a 
discouraged red poppy, slippers down at the heel and 
shawl awry; such was Hannah’s toilet. 

She stalked up to Harriet K. Barber, but that prim 
lady, after one horrified glance, minced off, leaving Han- 
nah staring after her in amazement. 

The natural effect of sorrow for the dead is elevation 
of soul and purpose. Thus it was with Stephen Moore. 

By request of Fay and Fern, he was given employ- 
ment at Glen Hazel, and they did all in their pow*er to 
keep him in the path of rectitude. 

Thereafter, at close of daj", a happy family were wont 
to gather round the family altar in the Moore cottage, 
whose clinging woodbines and roses were but outward 
types of the peace and happiness within. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Fay persuaded Fern to remain at Glen Hazel the 
entire summer. Her chief motive for remaining was her 
interest in the Moores. She felt it- was a critical time for 
Mr. Moore, and knew it would require great resolution 
on his part, not to yield to his appetite for drink again. 
Thus she labored to keep him aright. Other destitute 
families in the vicinity of Glen Hazel received many 
a little gift at her hands. She received quite a liberal 
salary and all went for charitable purposes save enough 
to purchase her plain and scanty wardrobe. The chil- 
dren around Glen Hazel fairly idolized her and began 
looking forwai d with dismay to the time w’hen she would 
leave for New Orleans. Oft’ times Sabbath afternoons 
she would wander with a troup of them into the quiet 
churchyard, reading the inscriptions on the marble slabs, 
or telling them stories of Jesus. Mary Moore’s grave 
was kept green and the children, led by Fay, planted a 
white rose on it in token of her spotless innocence. 
Often of a pleasant afternoon, troops of them might be 
seen marching off to some sequestered retreat, or per- 
chance riding on the river — the children sometimes fish- 
ing or splashing in the water. On some occasions older 
brothers would accompany their sisters on these rambles 
and greatly admired the beauty and pleasing manners of 
“ the rich southern ladies.” 

One beautiful evening just at sunset, as Fay and Fern 
were sitting on the veranda, enraptured with the glories 
of the sky — the clouds bathed in a mellow golden glow, 
varied by hues of deep purple, while the evening song of 
the birds, issuing from a grove near by, lent enchantment 

G1 


62 


FAY BANNING. 


to the scene, there came galloping up to the gate, on a 
wild, half-broken colt, a stout Dutch lad, clad in Dinse}'- 
woolsey trousers and jacket, and a rimless straw hat 
surmounting his head. He made a sudden halt, nearly 
pitching over the animal’s head; and instead of dismount- 
ing, began beckoning to the ladies to come down. After 
exchanging glances and smiles they tripped down to the 
gate. The lad smiled and handed Fay a note saying: 

“ Vrow Van Bummel sended du dese letter kvick.” 

Fay read the note, or invitation, for such it was, and 
passed it to Fern. It was a gentleman’s handwriting, 
neatly written, and read as follows: 

Thk Misses Banning and Leeand: 

Mrs. Van Bummel requests your presence at four o’c. to-morrow, 
P. M. to tea. 

“ Saur kraut cold and saur kraut hot,” laughed Fern 
at the conclusion. ” Who do you suppose is their 
guest.” 

” I haven’t the remotest idea,” answered Fa3^ ” Will 
we go or shall we decline the invitation? I think of 
nothing to hinder us now, or of no other engagement. 
So I think I had better answer it saying w^e will accept 
Mrs. Van Bummel’s kind invitation.” 

“Yes; I am just dying for cabbage, and more than 
that, I would like to see the writer of that invitation. 
So you go to the house and pen a polite acceptance, 
while I remain here and entertain Hans and the colt,” 
said Fern, perching herself upon a large stone. “You 
needn’t hurry,” she called after Fay, who had started 
for the house, 

Hans was grinning all over his face and the colt was 
pawing and foaming. 

“Is your name Van Bummel? ” Fern began. 

“Nein;my name is Peter Bennehoff. I vorken by 
Herr Van Bummel,” replied Peter in the pride of his 
heart at being questioned by die schonne Madchen, 


FAY BANNING. 


63 


“ Do you go to school, Peter ?” 

“ Oh, iiein. I go und de head py de schule haus next 
year und sprechen mine book mit too much hard read it.” 

Fern mischieveously turned one eye up at him as he 
was speaking, and peiceivingit he said laughingly “Du 
kann no forstay.” 

“ Oh, yes, Peter, I understand you perfectly well. 
You mean you will comb your head with the school 
house next year, and sprain your backbone with too 
much nodding.” 

“ Nay nix-nix-not,” screamed Peter with laughter. 

“ Mayn’t I ride that colt? ” asked Fern. 

“ He pat; he knocken du off so kvick,” said Peter, 
opening his eyes in astonishment. 

“ You ride him up to the step here,” said Fern, ris- 
ing, “ and I’ll show you I can ride the beast.” 

Peter, not wishing to refuse the pretty creature, even 
though it be to break her neck, rode his wild steed up to 
the step, dismounted, and was assisting her to mount, 
when Fay came out of the gate. Horrified at the pro- 
ceedings, she ran up and drew Fern back exclaiming: 

“You are the silliest girl alive 1 Would you mount 
that fiery animal? And without a saddle too? You 
would be thrown before you could get seated. Fern 
I really do not know what to make of you. It does seem 
to me I never saw anyone try such hazardous adventures 
as you do. ’ ’ 

“There, you’ve spoiled my market again by refusing 
to allow me to display my skill as an equestrienne before 
Peter. Oh woe is me! ” wailed Fern. 

Fay handed Peter the note, who, now fully conscious 
of the serious mistake he was about to commit, swung 
himself upon the horse, and went scampering away over 
the bridge and down the road, hoping by showing him- 
self a peerless rider, to thus retrieve himself in the esti- 
mation of Fay. 


64 


FAY BANNING. 


Next day found Fay and Fern leisurely driving 
along toward the home of the Van Bummels. It was a 
fine autumnal afternoon. September had far advanced 
and an early frost had tinged the forest trees with dyes 
of brilliant orange and scarlet. From the groves of 
chestnut and hickory came the bark of the squirrel and 
the shrill whistle, of the quail from the neighboring 
stubble-fields. 

Flocks of crows, loudly cawing, wheeled and circled 
around in the cerulean sky, lighting thickly on trees, 
as if sitting in autumn council. Bevies of small birds 
were reveling in their farewell banquets. There was the 
blue jay, that saucy coxcomb songster, in his suit of 
light blue and white, bobbing and bounding from bush 
to tree and tree to bush, lording it over more vulgar 
birds of plainer garb. 

As they rode along they beheld great orchards of 
apples and pears, the rich, ripe fruit hanging in oppres- 
sive opulence on the trees, fields of harvested buckwheat, 
cornfields with long rows of shocks, the yellow ears 
peeping out from the husks, and mammoth golden 
pumpkins reposing in the sun — all giving evidence of 
culinary abundance. 

They could catch an occasional glimpse of the Hudson 
through the trees bordering it, and see many white 
winged yachts in the distance slowly drifting down with 
the tide. 

Fay wondered why Mrs. Van Bummel had invited 
them to tea, their acquaintance being very slight. As 
Mrs. Van Bummel spoke very little English and Fay 
very little Dutch there had been but little chance for 
a mutual attachment. Yet Mrs. Van Bummel was a 
prepossessing, bustling little woman and no doubt would 
make it pleasant for those who were fortunate enough to 
have the privilege of enjoying her hospitality. They 


FAY BANNING. 


65 


surmised that an unknown gentleman had something to 
do with it, judging from the formal invitation they had 
received, a custom quite unusual for the people of that 
locality. They were going partly from curiosity and 
partly from courtesy. 

Shortly after four o’clock they arrived at the Van 
Bummel home, a quaint, brown old farm house, nestled 
among a grove of fruit trees in a sheltered nook, close by 
the river. A spring of the softest, sweetest w^ater bub- 
bled up at the roots of a large maple, ran through a stone 
spring-house, gurgling around bright pans of milk; then 
babbled away over its pebbley bed, through clusters of 
ferns and alders and willows till it joined the river. 

A shady yard with inviting benches under the trees, 
where ^ans Van Bummel took his noonday nap on warm 
summer days, his pipe in his mouth, puffing himself to 
sleep, the fragrant vapor curling about his nose, deepen- 
ing his slumbers. 

In a pond of water hard by the barn, snowy white 
geese were floating about, convoying whole fleets of 
ducks of gaudy colors; while in the farmyard a drove of 
turkeys were seemingly enjoying a melee with their 
cries of ‘ ‘ pick ’im Patrick.” Guinea fowls were running 
here and there, scolding at the turbulent state of affairs. 
On a gate-post, crowing and flapping his burnished 
wings in the pride of his heart, stood chanticleer, foretell- 
ing fair weather. The barns and ricks seemed ready to 
burst with the rich treasures of the farm. 

” Mr. Van Bummel rather piques himself on having an 
abundance at home, judging from his surroundings, 
though not making much of a show abroad,” Fay re- 
marked, as they stopped at the gate. 

“Yes. I don’t suppose his thoughts ever wander 
much farther than the goose pond though. His conver- 
sation will be on the latest pattern of a pig-yoke, or the 


66 


FAY BANNING. 


exhorbitant prices paid for kraut in New York. Do you 
feel able to wrestle with such topics? ” 

‘ ‘ I have buckled on my armor and feel ready for any 
emergency, ” replied Fa^ smiling. 

A crop-eared bulldog came lunging around the corner 
of the house, down to the gate and after several futile 
attempts to scale the pickets, contented himself with 
smiling through the fence at them in a most menacing 
manner. 

“ Hostilities have begun,” exclaimed Fern. 

“I would not be surprised to see the old gentleman 
swaggering out in battle array,” said Fay trembling. “I 
am a little bit chary about making ventures since the 
Cook-Tubbs calamity.” 

“We will remain in the carriage until we know what 
the reception will be like, ” said Fern. ” Ah, here comes 
der Herr. ’ ’ 

Old Hans Van Bummel came trotting out of the front 
door, and down the steps toward the gate; his face 
dilated with good humor, round and blooming as a cab- 
bage. He stopped to light his pipe when about half way 
to the gate, giving prodigous puffs to start it the while, 
one eye resting on the match and the other on the ladies. 

“See the old heathen,” tittered Fern. 

“Don’t,” whispered Fay. 

The doughty old fellow, having at length succeeded in 
getting his tobac to burning, came on to do the elegant, 
belching forth smoke which floated in blue clouds up 
through the dense foliage. 

He gave the ladies a most cordial welcome in low 
Dutch, letting them alight as best they could. These 
ceremonies through, he directed them to the house, then 
turned to find quarters for the horse. 

The dog, seeing the warm greeting his master gave 
the arrivals, slunk back to his kennel. 


FAY BANNING. 


67 


“ Now we will take up the line of march for the Van 
Bummel stronghold,” said Fern, glancing over her shoul- 
der after old Hans. “Advance,” and they started up 
the flower- bordered pathway. 

Aunt Katrina Van Bummel met them at the door, and 
gave them a friendly greeting, then ushered them into 
the parlor, the sanctum sanctorum. Everything was 
spotlessly clean and shining — the furniture of antique 
Dutch style. The room was unoccupied as yet by any 
other guests. Aunt Katrina, smiling at every turn, after 
seating them on great soft cushions made of downy 
feathers, in arm chairs with high backs, stately enough 
to have held the earl}^ Dutch governors, left the room, 
saying, “ I come back soon.” 

“ Wonder where our mysterious friend is? He is yet 
covert,” remarked Fern. 

“ Perhaps dressing for the occasion,” Fay added. “ I 
hear a heavy tread now on the stairs as of a man. He 
comes.” 

A loud squealing and barking now denoted a disturb- 
ance among the porkers somewhere in the immediate 
vicinity. On looking out Fern beheld a foraging shoat 
racing through the yard, worried by Peter Bennehoff and 
the dog. The pig ran under Peter, upsetting him, 
which sent Fern off into convulsions of laughter just as 
the stranger entered the door. 

Fern beheld a short man — a fat one — with the appear- 
ance in all respects of a damaged young man, rather than 
a well preserved elderly one. He was a little bright 
creature, with a large head — bald on top, looking not 
unlike a crow’s nest with one egg in it. 

Fay beheld Col. Tewksburry, of Kentucky 1 

How her heart beat, then almost stopped. But why 
need she fear them now? She had surrendered all rights 
to them — what more could they ask? All this ran 


68 


FAY BANNING. 


through her mind. Succeeding in partially throwing off 
her embarrassment, she arose to met the Colonel, who 
had already advanced into the room, bowing low, saying; 
“ lyadies, it is the sublimest moment of my life — in 
truth, I mean it — to have the delectable pleasure of being 
ushered into the presence of the two most charming, en- 
chanting ladies in the great Empire State of New York; 
and whose smiles are sunshine where, were it not for 
other ties that bind me, Allen Tewksburry would forever 
love to bask.” 

He was no longer a stranger to Fern. The cause of 
Fay’s embarassment was evident to her now. She 
beheld the gourmand from the sunny banks of the 
Kentucky. 

His complexion rich, his voice sweet, ah, there was a 
perfect charm in him! All he said was spontaneous, so 
free from effort, and was said with such a gaptivating 
gaiety. It was so fascinating to hear him talk that Fern 
forgot all the rebellious feelings she had harbored for 
him, and arose and received him, laughing at his remarks. 
There was an easy negligence in his manner and dress, 
which in vain Fern tried to separate from the idea of a 
romantic youth who had undergone some unique process 
of depreciation. 

Fay, bewildered at meeting the Colonel at such a time 
and place, looked at him with a wondering gaze. 

Perceiving it, the Colonel said: “Be seated, ladies, 
be seated; be calm; be collected. I don’t wonder at your 
being surprised. Fay, at my lighting on a flower here. 
’Tis the way of a butterfly, 5^ou know; here-away there- 
away, all over the land. I suppose you are dying to 
know, or hear, rather, from your dear mamma,” said the 
Colonel, with such a merry twinkle of the eye, “and 
mortification will set in if you do not hear from your 
afiectionate sister ” — with such a cunning wink of the 
other eye — “and our where-abouts and what-abouts.” 


FAY BANNING. 


69 


Fay didn’t know that it would, so the Colonel resumed : 

“ I live — that is, I haven’t died — with yom mamma 
and Celia yet. However, my desire to travel is still ar- 
dent, and their desire is so in the superlative degree 
that I should. I came into possession of quite a snug 
little fortune recently, by my own right, which places me 
on an even basis with those angels and so /am determined 
to travel,'"' and the Colonel attempted a pigeon wing; but, 
alas! too fat! — fell with a tremendous jar, upsetting a 
chair, thus bringing aunt Katrina flying to the door, 
with frying pan in one hand, an egg in the other, to 
ascertain the cause of the crash. ^ 

“ Give yourself no uneasiness, aunt Katrina; I simply 
lost my equilibrium while trying one of the feats of my 
youth.” 

Thereupon he arose with great effort, and Mrs. Van 
Bummel went back to the kitchen. 

” ’Twas arranged that I should do the entertaining,” 
he said, groaning. 

‘ ‘ Yes, ” the Colonel resumed, “ I have always admired 
the Hudson Valley scenery, ’tis the Rhine of America. 
A little partial, too, to New England scenery. I was 
brought up by hand on a sterile farm in the ‘‘nutmeg 
State,” so I come north every summer to get a sniff of 
New England air. It gives great tone to my nervous 
S3^stem, after a whole winter’s warfare with j^our con- 
summate ma. I find it very pleasant here at my Dutch 
uncle’s ” — casting his eyes about for listeners — “ plenty 
to eat and plenty to drink. Oh, give Allen Tewksburry 
books, papers, pleasant drives, morning walks, birds, 
flowers, some charming companions, ahem!” — glancing 
at Fern — “ music, yes; real dreamy music, some catchy 
little reverie, played when you are softly slumbering in 
the stilly night, while the moonlight shimmers through 
your latticed window. Great inspiration was that which 
fair Portia caught up when she breathed; 


70 


FAY BANNING. 


‘ The man that hath no music in himself, 

Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.’ 

Though music, as well as every earthly thing, must 
have its time and place. 

* The nightingale, if she should sing by day. 

When every goose is cackling in Van Bummel’s pond. 

Would no better a musician be 

Than one of aunt Katrina’s well fed ducks!’ 

I am not sure I quote the last just right. Come let us 
take a walk in the orchard on the rich, green, velvety 
grass, while aunt Katrina prepares our bohea. 

They walked in the orchard. Fay reticent, and Fern 
talkative. Fay felt much out of place! She clearly saw 
she had been invited there mainly on the strength of Col. 
Tewksburry’s wishes, and she felt it would be a relief 
when the time came for their departure, although the 
Colonel had never injured her that she knew of. On the 
contrary, he had been kind to her and rather favored her 
when Mrs. Tewksburry and Celia had been on rampages, 
and this had caused many altercations between the Col- 
onel and his wife and daughter. Yet she experienced a 
strange uneasiness that is often felt at approaching evil. 

As they passed around the house the merry Colonel 
begged them to glance up at his window. “ I have such 
a pleasant room,” said the spider, beginning to spin his 
w^eb, ” there under the eaves. The birds come and sing 
to me in the morning, and lull me to sleep in the evening. 
The swallows are gone now. How I love sw^ allows! 
Oh, to be here in the gentle spring time, to hear them 
twitter from their clay-built nests! My room is large, 
airy, and well furnished; a feather bed so large and soft 
that after you get into it — or onto it with a ladder — you 
keep sinking do vn, down, dreaming of goose heaven, 
till the rosy morn blushes in the east.” 

They paused to look up. 


FAY BANNING. 


71 


“I have such an excellent view of the calf pasture 
from my window; and the churly Peter serving the swine 
with refreshments in the morning. These rural scenes 
are delightful — enchanting 1 There is the frolic of the 
frogs, over there in the sw^amp. Oft’ times I awake out 
of a sweet slumber to listen to the bass frog’s sad notes, 
as he rolls over in the muck, and rubs his scorbutic back 
against the roots of the pussy willow. He is so like 
Allen Tewksburry — always saddest when he sings. 
From yonder stub that you see standing by the stone 
wall, lone and solitary, ‘ the moping owl doth to the 
moon complain.’ Every night it hoots from that stub, 
and from the song it warbles I know it is a disconsolate 
widow.” 

” I grieve to think,” said he, starting on, ” that my 
home is so engrossed with worldly cares. I had rather 
be away out west, sitting on a rock — bears and wolves 
howling all around me — then at my home. It is a hell, 
and I am a merry devil in it, in truth.” 

They strolled about in the orchard until the horn blew 
for tea. They then walked slowly back to the house 
and repaired to the dining room, where they found the 
table spread with the whitest of linen and loaded with 
the choicest viands, such as only good Dutch house- 
wives can prepare. The family, which consisted of Mr. 
and Mrs. Van Bummel and Peter Bennehoff, all sat down 
with them. Mr. Van Bummel invited the Colonel to say 
grace. He closed his eyes, leaned forward and began: 

‘‘O, Lord, we would give renewed thanks for the 
bounties of life. We would ask Thee to stretch our 
stomachs, that we may be able to partake of every dainty 
dish before us. We would further humbly ask of Thee 
to continue abundant harvests, filling the bins with grain 
and vegetables. Cause every goose egg to hatch in the 
spring, and forbid that any should be lost. Go with the pig 


72 


FAY BANNING. 


through the journey of life until he reaches the barrel, and 
we will give thee all the praise and glory forever. Amen. ’ ’ 

Fern nudged Fay with her elbow in token of her 
astonishment at the sacrilege, but Fay was too highly 
incensed to make any sign in return. The meal was 
concluded without any further disastrous subversions on 
the part of the Colonel. Peter’s manners were some- 
what crude, which afforded great amusement for Fern. 
He was an enormous feeder and gave them a drill in the 
sword exercises with his knife. 

Shortly after tea. Fay suggested that they start for 
home, as the evenings were now very chilly and Fern 
was not yet strong and might take cold. After many 
pressing invitations on the part of Mrs. Van Bummel, 
that good woman little dreaming that she was warming 
a serpent to strike at Fay Banning, they departed. 
The Colonel followed them to the gate, piping away in 
his usual manner. 

“Now,” said he, after they were seated in the car- 
riage, “I will remain here about two weeks — at least 
that is what* I booked for — and being extravagantly fond 
of lilies and roses, I trust I may see you often. And 
Fay,” he said, affecting emotion, “you have always 
had my deepest sympathy” — queer sympathy — “my 
heartfelt sympathy in-in-your-your — ” 

“Enough said,” interrupted Fern. 

“I trust. Fay,” continued the Colonel, “that you 
bear me no emnity with regard to these circumstances 
over which I have no earthly control.” 

The Iamb was now ready for the slaughter. The 
Colonel rolled up his basilisk orbs, as if imploring for 
mercy. His illusions somewhat depressed Fay, but 
affecting her usual equanimity, she replied; 

“ No, Colonel, I do not. But I wish to tell you one 
thing in regard to our visit here to-day. I fear it is not 


FAY BANNING. 


73 


in order. I believe Mrs. Van Bummel would never have 
invited us, had it not been for you. I am afraid the 
fashionable intelligence would frown upon such depart- 
ures from propriety. You should have called on us, and 
not had us come a wooing in this manner. However, 
Mrs. Van Bummel has made it very pleasant for us and 
I will remember her kindly.” 

The while she was talking the Colonel was scratching 
his head amusingly and bobbing around in a most fan- 
tastic manner. 

“Kgadl” he ejaculated. ‘‘So much for my pains! 
Allow me — but you are entirely too conservative. What 
could have aroused such concepts as those in your mind? 
Queer notions, m^^ dear girl, you have. You must have 
been living with old folks. But right here, let us have 
an end to all this. If \ have done wrong ” — he was 
conscious he had — ‘‘ I humbly beg forgiveness.” 

“Forgive the Colonel,” said Fern, laughingly, gath- 
ering up the reins, “ and invite him to call on us and 
have an end to this little fuss.” 

Fay was very slow in extending an invitation so Fern 
began: 

“ Well, come over and see us, Colonel, and we will kill 
the fatted calf and make merry. Fay is just a trifle over 
scrupulous in matters of etiquette, but true blue; you 
know her. Good-bye, ’ ’ she called out, starting the horse. 

“ Yes,” said the now laughing Colonel, “she will be 
one of our set yet. Good-bye.” 

Fay’s “ good-bye” was a formal “ good evening.” 

“ Now, there is one good point scored/’ remarked the 
Colonel, after they had gone. “Now, Polly Dutton, 
crack jjwr whip and carry this to Mrs. Spofibrd. Polly 
saw us in the orchard — ah, strolling in the orchard croft, 
when she was passing. Your a trump, Polly. I saw 
you peeping! Ah, Miss Banning, you gaudy bird, 


74 


FAY BANNING. 


though you be ‘just a trifle over scrupulous,’ your bril- 
liant plumage shall be plucked, and your good name 
connected with one of the foulest scandals of the land. 
Isabelle Iceland plays her cards well when / hold them 
for her. 

The exultant Colonel now betook himself to his room. 

That night, while the owl hooted from her bower, and 
the frogs smote the gloom over in the swamp with their 
cantata, the Colonel plotted. 

“ I can’t conceive what ill wind blew Col. Tewksburry 
here,” remarked Fay, after they had left the Colonel. ” I 
can’t think he is here simply on a pleasure trip. I feel 
to-night as though foes were lurking on every hand.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, don’t forbode any evil at his sudden appearance, ” 
said Fern. ‘‘You have often told me* what a mania he 
has for travel, and you know a butterfly is ‘ here-away, 
there-aw^ay, all over the land.’ ” 

‘ ‘ True he never did me any harm that I know of, yet 
I believe he will bear watching,” said Fay, with a 
shudder. 

That night she dreamed a serpent lay coiled in her 
hair, and her cries of ‘‘ take it away\ oh, take it away!''’ 
awoke Fern, who ran to her bedside. The terrified girl 
told her dream, and begged Fern not to leave her. 

The two lay down, side by side, and the angel of 
purity spread his broad wings protectingly over them, as 
if to stay the calumny that would soon separate them. 

Next day, Mr. Goodman, the postmaster at M., deliv- 
ered a registered letter to Alleji Tewksburry from Isabelle 
Leland. He spoke of it that evening to Mrs. Goodman, 
wondering what business the stranger had in that vicinity. 
He soon forgot the occurrence; but Mrs. Goodman re- 
membered it. 

In the succeeding chapter will be seen what mission 
brought Col. Tewksburry to Glen Hazel. 


CHAPTER VIL 


On one of the most pleasant streets in New Orleans, in 
the most fashionable part of the “Crescent City,*’ was 
situated the permanent home of the Irelands. The 
house was a large, airy structure of French style, having 
been built by a wealthy French gentleman in the early 
part of the present century. 

Modern renovations changed its somewhat ancient 
aspect into a mixture of styles which added to its attrac- 
tiveness. It was surrounded by a wide piazza, and the 
windows reaching to the floor admitted all the breezes 
which were cooled by sprays of water projected high in 
the air by the fountains in the yard, rendering the heat 
common to that climate less oppressive. 

In the large yard which surrounded the house, care- 
fully cultivated, grew trees and flowering shrubs and 
brilliant flowers in great profusion peculiar to the 
“sunny South.” There were orange trees with their 
dark green foliage where mocking birds sang among the 
flowers and fruit all the livelong day ; magnolias loaded 
with their white blossoms, tossing in the morning breeze, 
showering down dew-drops which kissed the rich flowers 
of the oleander and the roses as they fell. Twining up 
the pillars of the veranda were honey- suckles, climatises 
and the scarlet passion-flower. 

The house was furnished with costly furniture of 
marble, mahogany and rosewood. Turkish rugs and 
carpets of oriental styles — so velvety and soft that to 
tread on them seemed like treading on moss — covered 
the floors. 


75 


76 


FAY BANNING. 


On an ottoman in her dressing-room sits Isabelle 
Leland dressed in a fashionable morning robe. As she . 
raises her dark eyes — though peculiarly fascinating — 
they betray an ever-varying expression. Her hair is 
black as the raven’s wing and her complexion is pecu- 
liarly fair for her dark hair and eyes. She is what the 
world calls a beautiful woman, yet a slight pout of the 
lips gives her a look that tells at once she is to be feared 
when her southern blood boils. She is intently watching 
two black boys fighting over an orange in the street. 
Finally the smaller one succeeds in getting it and trium- 
phantly runs off with it followed by the other close at 
his heels. 

A sudden rap on the door announces a servant and she 
tells her to come in. 

A mulatto girl enters the room with the morning mail. 

“ Good morning Luce. You may place my letters on 
the table.” 

Luce obeys and is withdrawing from the room when 
accosted by Isabella with: “What is all that racket 
about in the kitchen this morning ? I have heard heavy 
jars as of the house falling in, then some one screaming.” 

“Oh, ’deed. Miss Iserbella, we am Ijabin’ an awful 
time wid Jeff dis mawniiiL He done gettin’ too big fo 
aunt Judy to han’l, an’ he won’t carry wood an’ water 
dout he licked,” said Luce opening her large eyes in her 
eagerness to tell news. 

Isabelle smiled and asked, “ Why doesn’t she call old 
Rastus to whip him ? ’ ’ 

“Uncle Rastus he done gone out to de plantation an’ 
won’t be back till dark,” said Luce. 

“Why don’t you help aunt Judy to thrash him then? ” 
Isabella asked. 

“ ’Deed I does. Dat’s w’en yo’ hear de hollerin’ w’en 
I be hol’in ’im an’ aunt Judy tuckin’ on de string!” 
ejaculated the girl. 


FAY BANNING. 


77 


“I’ll go down,” said Isabelle rising, “and see if I 
can’t preserve order,’’ and she followed I^uce down 
stairs. 

When they entered the kitchen aunt Judy the cook and 
Jeff a black boy about fourteen years old were standing 
behind the stove with their hands locked in each others 
wool while two negro babies sat on the floor crying 
lustily. 

Catching the lad by the hair and seizing a strap out of 
aunt Judy’s hand, Isabelle belabored the incorrigible 
youth so sharply the neighbors wondered who was 
catching it again at Irelands. 

“ Now,’’ she said when she let him go, “ if I hear of 
your refusing to mind Judy again, sir. I’ll nearly take 
your black hide off, you rascal ! ’’ 

“Oh, I’ll min’. Miss Iserbelle, I’ll min’, ’deed I will,’’ 
cried the boy catching up the water pail and starting for 
the well. 

“Stop those brats’ crying,’’ said Isabelle turning to 
Judy. 

Judy caught up one and I^uce the other, striving to 
pacify them. 

“Confound the niggers anyway,’’ snarled Isabelle 
starting for her room. 

“ ’De ole cross thing ! ” said Judy when Isabelle had 
disappeared. How I do wish Master, or Fay an’ Fern 
’ud kaim home. She hain’t quite so sabage w’en dey is 
here.’’ 

“ Lan’, I wish I could see Miss Fern to-day;’’ exclaimed 
lyUce. “ I ’ud run an’ jump a ten-rail fence to meet her, 
dat I would ! An’ Miss Banning, too. Dey is so kin’ 
to me. Miss Banning git me dese beads,’’ she said, hold- 
ing them up for Judy to see. 

When Isabelle reached her room she took her letters 
and threw herself down on a lounge to read them. Tak- 


78 


FAY BANNING. 


ing up one which she recognizes to be her brother’s, who 
is yet up in the mountains in Colorado, she breaks the 
seal and reads. 

The letter first tells of his improved health ; then gives 
a few business directions, and lastly tells her that Fern 
and Fay will be in New Orleans the last of the present 
month — how Isabelle’s face flushes — and to have their 
rooms in readiness. 

“Ah, how extremely careful of Fay Banning!” she 
remarked when she had finished the letter. “ Guy Ice- 
land loves her to madness and will never let her leave his 
home if he can prevent it — though she expects to leave 
here this year, I believe. She will marry Guy, I think, 
if he but proposes. So I may expect a wedding in the 
near future. No, never! Guy Lcland shall 7iever wed ihe 
2V07nan I hate! ” and she arose and walked up and down 
the room in her rage. “ Why do I hate her ? ” she went 
on. “Because people call her more beautiful than I. 
Only for her and I would have been Mrs. Dr. Forrester 
to-day,” she said, pausing before the mirror. “I will 
crush the worm I hate. Fay Banning, beware I Isabelle 
Iceland will yet have revenge ! ” 

And the artful women sat down to plot Fay Banning’s 
destruction. 

She was startled a half-hour later by the ringing of the 
door bell down stairs and heard Luce answer the call. 
Presently Luce rapped at her door exclaiming, “Oh, 
Miss Iserbelle, come down stairs quick 1 Dar is de 
queerest man down dar on arf I I dun b’leive he as crazy 
as a bed-bug, sho’ I He say he want to see yo’ — dat 3 ^ 0 ’ 
am his uncle or aunt or sumf n. He done want ter kiss 
me, Miss Iserbelle ! ho! ho! ho!” laughed Luce. 

By this time Isabelle was in the hall. 

“Call the dogs immediately,” she cried, pushing Luce 
along toward the top of the stairs. 


FAY banning. 


79 


Luce was sober now and hurried away from Isabelle 
exclaiming, “ Golly, I didn’t go fer to stir up sich a 
yaller-jacket’s nest, nohow !” 

“ Call those dogs !” cried Isabelle charging down stairs 
after her. 

“I will,” lyUce called back, ‘‘w<?^,”she added when 
she got beyond Isabelle’s hearing. 

Luce flew into the kitchen, threw herself down on the 
floor exclaiming, “Sho’s I lib dar am a man in de 
pahler dat wanted to kiss me when I sot him a chair ! 
He ! he ! he ! ho ! ho ! ho !” she laughed, showing thirty- 
two very large and very white molars, canines and 
incisors. 

Aunt Judy dropped the pail of hot water she was 
carrying — some of it spattering on the twins, thereby 
tuning them up again — so great was her amazement. 

” Yo’ silly lass,” exclaimed aunt Judy. “ I’ve a good 
notion to slap yo’ jaws fo’ yo’ good. Do you go ’long 
now an’ shell dem peas. Kf I heah any mo’ such non- 
sense out o’ yo’ silly pate I’ll bang yo’ good !” she said, 
starting for Luce, who scrambled up and ran off to shell 
the peas. 

When Isabelle reached the parlor door she ran right 
into the arms of a dumpty wight — fifty and thrifty. 

” Roses and lilies !” he exclaimed. ” I have plucked 
a whole bunch of them ! ’ ’ 

” Leave my house !” she shrieked. “Loosen the dogs, 
Luce ! ” 

“ Forestay this rash act,” said the man, starting back 
and looking at her. “ I am not as crazy as I look, my 
dear. It is only the way I wear my dry goods.” 

“ Leave my house, you vagabond,” she commanded. 

“ Not until I have made myself known to you ; then I 
will go if you desire — prancing and curveting. ” 

“Well, who in kingdom are you then ?” she fiercely 
demanded, pausing for an answer. 


80 


FAY BANNING. 


Col. Tewksburry, of Kentucky, at your service. Own 
cousin of your deceased mother, my dear.” 

” What ! cousin Allen Tewksburry, Celia’s father? ” 
she inquired somewhat amazed. 

“The same,” he said, ducking his head. 

‘ ‘ Oh, please pardon me, cousin Allen for the serious 
mistake I have made,” she said,” extending her hand 
and deeply blushing. ” It’s all that idiot Luce’s fault.” 

She was all loveliness now. 

“I freely pardon you,” he said laughing and giving 
her his hand. ‘‘It is the way I generally meet people.” 

‘‘Please be seated,” she said, leading him to a chair. 
“ I am so delighted to see you. I have never had the 
pleasure of seeing you before. Guy remembers you, 
though, and so often 'speaks of you. But pray how is 
Celia and your wife. I did enjoy Celia’s visit here so 
much. Did you leave them well ? ” 

Luce now came bounding to the door grinning and 
exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, Miss Iserbelle, ’deed I kaint fin’ de 
dogs nowheres. Someob de niggers done let ’em loose.” 

‘‘Never mind the dogs now. Luce. Tell Phoebe I 
want her,” said Isabelle turning to the Colonel again, 
waiting for answers to her questions. 

‘‘ They were well when I last heard from them,” re- 
plied the Col. ‘‘ I have’nt seen them since April, and 
this is September. You know — or if you do not I am 
telling you — I have an ardent desire to travel, and so I 
toss about like an ocean w^ave,” he said laughing. 

‘‘ Yes, Celia told me you were sort of a shifting planet. 
It is very nice to travel but I soon tire of it and I rather 
prefer retirement.” 

‘‘Where is Guy ? ” inquired the Col. 

‘‘ Oh, he is up in the mountains in Colorado for his 
health. Dr. thought he was threatened with consump- 
tion and advised change of climate. He comes back the 


FAY BANNING. 


81 


last of this month. But you will stay, cousin, till he 
comes, won’t you ? ” she said with such a sweet little 
smile. 

You will hardly refuse, cousin. Ah, you will ! 

“ I don’t think I can remain that long,” he said recip- 
rocating her smile. “I will see, though, to-day. I 
will go out now and get my satchel,” he said, rising.” 
and be back in a short time.” 

He saw Isabelle had not yet completed her morning 
toilet and would thus give her an opportunity. 

“Very well, cousin, come back real soon,” she said 
rising. 

She followed him to the hall door and he tripped gaily 
out and away and was soon lost in the throng of the 
crowded streets, while Isabelle retfred once more to her 
room. 

Meanwhile, the happy lyuce had gone on her errand. 
She passed through the kitchen, out of the house, across 
the back lawn, through a gate, and across an alley to a 
long low house — the slave quarters of Mr. Leland. The 
building was divided into many compartments to accom- 
modate the numerous families living in it. 

Guy Leland was no disciplinarian and his slaves did 
about as they pleased. He never sold any, never bought 
any unless they wanted to be sold or bought ; and they 
rarely wanted to be sold. Consequently he had what 
people chose to call “the sassiest, laziest set of niggers 
in all New Orleans.” He had a large plantation in the 
country and kept them on it a share of the time, but 
allowing no whipping, the overseers got very little work 
out of them. And had it not been for Isabelle, whom all 
the blacks hated, Leland would have been turned out of 
doors. Nay, not so bad as that, for the blacks all loved 
him and were always ready to do his bidding. 


82 


FAY BANNING. 


Luce heard music and dancing as she approached the 
building, and thrusting her woolly head in where she 
expected to find Phoebe, she beheld an old darkey sitting 
in one corner scraping an old violin, while out of the 
dusky crowd that sat around on stools, wash-tubs, pails, 
benches, etc., a set was gathering for a dance. 

“ Git yo’ pawdners, fust cowdrille,” shouted Jake, the 
floor manager, an odd mixture of French, Spanish, 
Dutch, English, Irish, negro, and the Lord know what 
all, who was stepping around with cuffs on his ankles. 

All was ready. The music started. 

“ Conahs all,” shouted Jake, and the dance begun. 

“ Yo’ debits ’ll kotch it shoah dis mawnin’,” shouted 
Luce at the top of her voice. ‘ ‘ Miss Iserbelle is madder 
den a wet hen.” 

This brought the house to order, and they all ran 
toward Luce, craning their necks and opening their 
white eyes like cellar doors. 

“What impeahs to be the mattah?” inquired uncle 
Dan’l, laying down his fiddle. 

“ Oh, Miss Iserbelle done give Jeff a thunderin’ lickin’ 
and d6ne pitched into a stranger dat wanted to kiss Luce; 
yah! yah! yah! ” 

And she threw back her head and displayed all her 
ivory again. 

“She called fo’ de dogs,” Luce went on, “to dog him 
off, yah! yah! yah! and now” she said, sobering up, 
“ she want you Phoebe Snow to come to de house. Yo’ 
walk right out o’ dat darnce, an’ hiker fo’ de house, yo’ 
heah ! ” \ 

“Oh Lawd! spect I kotch it now,” said Phoebe, 
whimpering. “She want me to comb her hair, an’ I’d 
awter went an houah ago,” .she said, starting. 

“ Dispns to yo’ seberal abodes,” commanded uncle 
Dan’l. And the dance broke up. 


FAY BANNING. 


83 


Phoebe considered herself lucky in getting off with a 
boxed ear. She soon had her mistress dressed “fit to 
meet the king.” 

Her Majesty now dismissed I^uce, and sat down to 
read and await the coming of Col. Tewksburry. 

In the course of an hour the Colonel came back and 
Isabelle swept down the broa:l, winding stair-case, with 
all her beauty and splendor to meet him. 

They sat down to converse in the gilded parlor, where 
rich perfume of the sweet-scented geranium and the fra- 
grant rose united, came wafting through the windows. 

After they had conversed some time, Isabelle ex- 
claimed: 

“ And isn’t it strange that that Fay Banning, who ran 
away from your home, should at last turn up in ours! ” 

“What is that you say!” exclaimed the surprised Col- 
onel. “You don’t mean to say Fay BanningWvQS here?” 

“ Why, yes; didn’t you know it? Or hasn’t Celia yet 
apprised you of it? Yes,” Isabelle went on, “she has 
annoyed me for five long years.” 

“ Well, I declare! ” exclaimed the Colonel, “I had 
given up ever hearing of her again. She was an inno- 
cent little thing when she left us. I always felt rather 
sorry for her. Her mother — my wife — was rather hard 
on her. Well, well.” 

“Well, I wish she had never entered our home,” ad- 
ded Isabelle. “ She is north now with Guy’s daughter, 
Fern, and a meaner upstart than that Fern never lived. 
She is not like the Lelands, I can tell you that.” 

Not like her aunt Isabelle, at any rate. 

“ Well, if this Fay is a weed in the family, why don’t 
you pull it up? ” said the Colonel, with a sly glance. 

“ I can’t conceive how to get rid of her. The whole 
truth is, unless something is done to prevent it, Guy will 
surely marry h^r. At least, that is the way I have 


84 


^'AY BANNING. 


construed what I have seen and heard. He is perfectly 
infatuated with the minx. I had rather see the coffin 
lid screwed down over his face than to see him wed Fay 
Bannmg, lam determined he shall never marry her'^ 
she said, trembling with rage. 

“ Pull up the weedl pull up the weedl ” chimed the 
merry Colonel. 

‘ ‘ I have devised and schemed every plan I can thinlc of, ' 
and I can’t settle on any that seems satisfactory. I have 
about exhausted my good wits,” she said, slowly shak- 
ing her head. 

” Can’t I be a cats-paw for you?” he said, giving her a 
wary look ” If I can do anything to rid your house of 
a rat — why I’m ready to do it!” 

” Do 3^011 really mean it. Colonel? V/ould you really 
be willing to assist me to get her away from here? ” she 
anxiously inquired. 

‘‘Certainly. I’ll do anything but kill her. \ won't 
murder. 

‘‘Certainly not! You fill me with horror to speak of 
that!” she said, shuddering and covering her face with 
her hands. But if you will assist me a little I think I may 
be able to get her out of this. I must defame her char- 
acter in some way, else Guy would follow her to the 
end of the earth.” 

For some time they were silent. Then Isabelle said: 

‘‘ We will let the subject drop for the present and I 
will take a little time to conjure a scheme. Would 3^ou 
not like to take a drive this morning? ” she asked. 

Nothing would please him better. So she rang the 
bell. 

The summons was answered by Tuce. 

‘‘Tell Jake to bring the horses around this morning — 
the white ones, Tuce. Will you remember? ” sharply 
inquired Isabelle. 


FAY BANNING. 


85 


“Deed I will,” answered Duce, hurrying away on 
her errand. 

“About as long as I’m telling her,” said Isabelle, as 
lyuce went out of the door. 

lyuce heard the remark and making up a face, said to 
herself, “hateful old thing! Wish de horses ud run 
away an’ upset ’er.” 

IvUce proceeded straight to the quarters, full of the 
importance of her mission. Uncle Dan’l was the first to 
meet her. 

“ Who is de next one to kotch it? ” he asked. “ Spect 
I’ll soon hev to be rackin’ my ole bones up fo’ a lam- 
bastin’.” 

“Deed yo’ need it!” was Luce’s consolation. “Didn’tyo’ 
git chuck full o’ ’ligion last Crixtmas, and to-day yo’ 
scrapin’ de fiddle fo’ Jake to swing Phoebe? Where am 
Jake now? ” she asked. 

When “ Miss Iserbelle ” was known to be having “a 
tantrum,” every black was on the alert, awaiting his 
turn for a whipping. She regarded neither age, sex nor 
size. She was now known to be in no pleasant frame of 
mind, and whenever Luce came with a summons there 
was a death-like stillness in the “quarters,” save the 
chattering of teeth. And “ wild Luce” (her negro cog- 
nomen) took a fiendish delight in tormenting the poor 
creatures. 

When Jake heard Luce pronounce his name, he stuck 
his head up through a superanuated stove-pipe hole in 
the roof of the cabin and asked what was wanted. 

“ Oh yo’ had bettah be scratchin’ down out o’ dat, yo’ 
black knave? ” said Luce, looking up. “ Miss Iserbelle 
is jes yellin’ ef yo’ don’t hab dem white horses round to 
de gate less’n two miniks — she countin’ dem too — she’ll 
skin yo’ an’ hang yo’ black pelt on de fence to dry.” 


86 


FAY BANNING. 


Luce heard Jake strike the garret floor as he dropped 
from the roof and laughed her great “ yahl yah! yah! ” 
when she saw him pounce out of the door and bound 
along to the stables. 

Jake was not long in grooming and harnessing the 
horses, and in his hurry to get to the gate in the limited 
time, nearly upset the carriage in whirling a corner. 

It was some time before Isabelle and the Colonel came 
out. Jake doffs his hat as his proud mistress comes up, 
bows most gracefully and assists her into the -carriage 
with the grace of a prince; but lets “ de fat man full ob 
beah,” — as he afterwards tells Luce — make several at- 
tempts to get in “ fo’ he condersends to gib him a boost,” 
Jake mounts the front seat and soon they are rolling 
along the smooth pavement. 

No sooner was Isabelle out of sight than the quar- 
ters were conyerted into a howling pandemonium. 
Old pails, old pans, old drums were beaten, children 
shrieked, dogs barked and chickens cackled. The aged, 
headed by uncle Dan’l, withdrew to a haven down the 
alley and stopping their ears to shut out the terrible din, 
sat down, praying for the time when “Miss Isabelle 
would kaim an’ put a stop to the horrible fracas.” 

‘ ‘ Make it snow ! ’ ’ yelled Jeff. 

“ De settlers am movin’ out an’ de wild animals 
movin’ in!” shouted Dido. 

“ Yankee Doodle keep it down,” sang Phoebe Snow. 

Thus they went on screaming like maniacs. Mr. Par- 
dee, a neighbor, came out and fired off a gun, hoping 
thus to quell them, but when the smoke cleared away, 
they serenaded the harder. 

A mischievous little picaniny whom Fern had named 
“Princess Henrietta,’ with large gold hoops in her ears, 
perched herself on the front gate and seemed quite con- 


FAY BANNING. 


87 - 


tented with saucing and 'making faces at people who 
passed. 

An old gentleman conies trudging along, travel- 
stained, and perspiring in every pore from the weight of 
a large flowered and bright colored carpet bag that he is 
carrying. He wears a soiled, dove-colored stove-pipe 
hat, a red bandanna about his neck, and a rusty black 
Prince Albert coat hangs loosely on his tall, lank frame. 
His trousers bag at the knees; evidently he is some 
solemn old pilgrim from far-away Yankee land. 

He stops at the gate, sets down his carpet sack, wipes 
the perspiration from his heated brow, bows politely to 
Princess Henrietta, and asks if she can tell him where 
Mr. Iceland lives. 

“Oh, Golly! yes,” answers the child, .grinning and 
rolling her large white eyes around, which present a 
strange contrast with her ebony face. 

‘ ‘ Does you see dat large brick house up dar on de 
conah?” she asked, pointing in the direction of the 
building. 

‘ ‘ Yes, little girl, ” politely answered the old gentleman. 

“ Den dat low brown one back of dat? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, dat haint it.” 

“Well, can you tell me where it is then, little girl? ” 

“ Y-a-a-s,” she drawled. 

“ Will you please tell me where it is? ” — anxiously. 

‘, Y-a-a-s.” 

“Well tell me then.” 

‘ ‘ Does yo’ see dat big white house upon the hill above 
de brick? ” 

“Yes.” 

“An’ dat yaller one across de street from dat ? ” 

He did. 

“ Dat haint de one.” 


88 


FAY BANNING. 


The old gentleman mournfully shook his head, picked 
up his carpet sack and started. 

“ Say,” called the princess after him, ” what does yo’ 
carry in dat sarpy-kack? ” 

He looks not back. 

” Hey! Obediah Auger-han’l, does yo’ wife make 
cheese? ’ ’ 

Gone. 

Luce, for her part in the little drama, had gone up- 
stairs, donned one of her mistress’ dainty silk gowns and 
a hat loaded with white ostrich plumes, and was prome- 
nading up and down the walk in front of the house, fan- 
ing herself with a large feather fan. 

The jamboiiree'' had lasted nearly two hours when 
Miss Isabelle’s carriage came rolling around a near corner. 

” Great Injuns!” exclaimed Princess Henrietta, as she 
sprang down from the gate and ran towards the quar- 
ters screaming at every jump: ‘‘L,awd niggers! Miss 
Isahbelle! Miss Isah belle ! ” 

Luce did not wait to run to the gate to enter the yard, 
but bounded over the fence, catching her dress and tear- 
ing it, then fairly flew to the house and ‘upstairs, threw 
off her mistress’ dress, and prepared to meet her. 

All was quiet now at the quarters, and the aged 
refugees were gathering back as the beautiful turnout 
drove up to the gate. 

Jake sprang out and assisted his pretty mistress down 
from the carriage, then labored with the corpulent 
Colonel. He dextrously managed the Colonel so that he 
stumbled and fell, hitting his head against a lamp-post, 
thereby crushing his hat and bruising his nose, causing 
the blood to flow most profusely. 

“Oh, my deah sail! I hum’ly begs yo’ pawdon,” ex- 
claimed the apparently penitent Jake — though inwardly 


FAY BANNING. 


89 


convulsed with laughter — “ I dawn’t see how it happened. 
I guess yo’ fatter den I counted on.” 

Isabelle, provoked at Jake’s seeming awkwardness, 
caught the whip out of the holder, exclaiming, “you 
blockhead. I’ll teach you to blunder arouna in this 
manner.” 

Jake bounded nimbly around, dodging the blows. 
Whenever he came within reach of the Colonel, who had 
risen to a sitting posture, he would give a tug at him 
to lift him up. 

“ Oh, for Lord’s sake nigger, let me alone! ” cried the 
bedraggled Colonel, wiping his bloody nose. “I am 
nothing else than murdered in cool blood! Away with 
you!” 

Jake at length grew tired of trying to evade Isabelle’s 
blows and springing into the carriage he gave a shout at 
the horses which bounded forward, but not soon enough 
to prevent the driver from getting a smart cut with the 
whip across the cheek. 

“Oh, I’ll kill you !” screamed the angry woman after 
the flying fugitive. 

Little knots of uncharitable bystanders were enjoying 
the scene at a distance, and the Colonel, wishing to get 
out of view of the spectators, gathered himself up and 
went limping to the house followed by Isabelle. 

“Just wait,” said Isabelle, when they had entered the 
house, “ until I can get hold of that lad and I’ll make 
his back pay smartly for this !” 

Luce came forward in the hall the picture of innocence 
to meet her mistress, and to ask if anything was wanted. 
Seeing the Colonel’s ruffled appearance she threw up her 
hands exclaiming, “ W’at on arf am de mattah with 
Colonel Trick sbu rry ?” 

“ Where is aunt Phoeny ?” asked Isabelle sharply. 

“In de kitchen, mam, insistin’ aunt Judy.” 


90 


FAY BANNING. 


“Tell her to come here immediately.” 

Tuce hurried away for aunt Phoeny, the family doctor, 
who was accredited with marvelous healing powers, and 
who practised such vagaries of witch-craft as “talking 
out fire,” etc. When aunt Phoeny came into the hall 
followed by Luce, Isabelle bade them go up to the 
Colonel’s room, whither he had gone, and attend his 
wounds. When Phoeny and Luce entered his room he 
was washing up the gore but quite forgot his aches when 
Luce came up to him grinning and said, “ Heah am aunt 
Phoeny, sah, de ole fam’ly physicin’, what can cuah yo’ 
berry quick.” 

“ I am not as near dead as I thought I was,” said the 
Colonel laughing. “Where is that kiss, Lucy dear, you 
are going to give me, eh ?” he said patting her under the 
chin, 

“Yah ! yah 1 yah !” laughed the elated Luce, throw- 
ing herself into a chair. 

Aunt Phoeny ’s dignity was touched at the queer pro- 
ceedings, and she ordered Luce to walk straightway out 
of the room. Luce hesitated. Aunt Phoeny impatiently 
caught her by the shoulder and hustled her out of the 
room, boxed her ears, started her down stairs, following 
closely behind. 

“ I’ll larn yo’ to be ticklin’ round dat ole fool,” said 
she, when they had reached the kitchen. “Bettah not let 
me see any mo’ sich monkey shines.” 

That evening as Isabelle and the Colonel sat in the 
parlor conversing. Luce brought a card announcing Dr. 
Forrester. 

“ Show him in at once,” said Isabelle, all smiles. 

The Doctor soon made his appearance, a tall, dark, 
handsome young man— perhaps thirty — whose manner 
was pleasing in the extreme. 


FAY BANNING. 


91 


“Good evening, Doctor,” said Isabelle advancing to 
meet him as he entered the room. “ I am so glad you 
came this evening, now that my cousin is here. I am 
anxious to have you meet. Col. Tewksburry of Ken- 
tucky, Dr. Forrester.” 

The Doctor warmly greeted the Colonel and likewise 
the Colonel over- warmly, the Doctor. 

The Colonel was very wordy, the Doctor a brilliant 
conversationalist, and Isabelle fascinating, so an hour 
passed speedily by. 

The Doctor at last rose to go. Isabelle insisted that 
he remain, but go he must. 

“ When does Miss Banning and Fern return ?” inquired 
the Doctor as he was leaving. 

“Oh, I think the last of September, sometime,” said 
Isabelle darkening. 

“ I thought they were to return the first of the month,” 
the Doctor went on. 

“No; we rarely leave the north, when there, until 
October,” replied Isabelle. 

So with pleasant “ good evenings ” and promises on 
the part of the Doctor to call again soon, he went his 
way. 

“Aha! So he came to see Miss Banning after all. 
So, so. I will take great pains to sweeten his tea for 
him as well as Guy’s,” said Isabelle to herself as she 
turned and walked back to the parlor. When she had 
seated herself again, she began with, “Well, Colonel, my 
plot to clear my path of Fay Banning has at last 
ripened.” 

“ Good I” ejaculated the stuffy little Colonel. 

“I fear lest it be unpleasant to you, as it devolves 
largely on you to execute it. It must necessarily involve 
you in a little scandal affair.” 

“ Must, hey ?” interrupts the Colonel. 


92 


FAY BANNING. 


“ And you must travel quite a distance,” Isabelle went 
on. “As you ‘ have an ardent desire for travel,’ you 
will surely fall in with that part of it,” — 

“I surely will.” 

“Providing I furnish the money, which I intend to 
do, and a good liberal sum at that. ’ ’ 

“ Indeed ! What is your plan ?” chuckles the Colonel. 

“There is a Mrs, Spofford living near Glen Hazel, our 
northern home,” begins Isabelle, “who is seemingly quite 
a friend of mine. I care nothing for her, however, only 
as a tool. She is the leading woman in her circle in all 
enterprises — apple-butter stirrings, kraut cuttings, etc. — 
in short she is simply pushing.” 

“ The dear old girl !” says the Colonel, coughing. 

“Fay Banning has lived with us under a fictitious 
name. When Celia visited us I found we were harboring 
the same rat that had been undermining your walls. I 
straightway informed Madame Spofford of the fact and 
begged her to keep an eye on the deceitful creature, and 
apprise me of the proceedings at Glen Hazel from time 
to time. Mrs. Spofford takes a great delight in writing 
me, and I hear from the north a little too often. Her 
letters are so boring — ‘ Corn-huskin’ s’ and ‘quiltin’s’ 
are her themes, ’ ’ laughed Isabelle. ‘ ‘ I now come to the 
meat in the cocoa-nut, and I blush to tell you” — 

She paused and such a look of guilt as stole over her 
face. 

“ Go on, goon, and make no deviations from what you 
would have me do, Iz.,” urged the Colonel. 

“Are you ready to go north, to Glen Hazel?” she 
asked. 

“Ready to travel anytime. You know my ardent 
desire,” he said. 

“Very well. I will write Mrs. Spofford telling her 
investigation reveals the fact that Fay Banning is an out- 


FAY BANNING. 


93 


cast from home on account of being on too intimate 
terms with her step-father.” 

The Colonel had been intently watching Isabelle while 
she was talking, and at the preposterous thought of Fay 
Banning being guilty of such an act burst into a hearty 
laugh. Even the flinty-hearted Isabelle colored deeply. 
The Colonel at last became composed and said: “Good 
enough ! Go on with your rat killing !” 

‘‘That her mother writes me now,” said the wily wo- 
man collecting herself, ” her husband has been absent 
some time from home and is suspected of being with this 
Fay, and I wish her to watch and see if he comes to Glen 
Hazel. You must stop near Glen Hazel and visit at 
the house as often as possible, and to a spy, be on appa- 
rently intimate terms with Fay. You will need be very 
cautious, though, lest she suspect your visit is ominous. 
She undoubtedly knew you had an ‘ardent desire for 
travel,’ and always sympathizing with her during little 
jars at home, she will regard your sudden appearance as 
an accident and suspect no evil. How Mrs. Spoffbrd will 
gloat over the scandal and write me long letters concern- 
ing it ! 

I will tell her to post Polly Dutton, an outlandish 
gossip that lives near her, and the stories that we shall 
hear will be appalling. Then I will read Mrs. Spoffbrd’ s 
letters to Guy and tell him Fay Banning’s history, and 
he will gnash his teeth at being so duped by this angelic 
creature. How he will rave at her poisonous influence 
over Fern ! When she arrives in New Orleans her recep- 
tion here will be anything but warm.” 

” I am thinking my reception would be anything but 
cool here were I to visit here after Guy hearing of such a 
scandal,” said the Colonel. 

“Yes,” said Isabelle, “lam thinking so, too. ‘Be- 
ware of the fury of a patient man.’ I will give you five 


94 


FAY banning. 


hundred dollars to begin with, and if the scheme works 
five hundred more. What say you?” she said in 
conclusion. 

“Capital scheme! cousin Izzy. Capital! capital!” 
said the Colonel jumping up and patting her cheek. 
“ Good girl •” 

And the wicked man and woman laughed over the 
virulent scheme. 

“ What visits with Polly ! You know I am of Yankee 
descent, which will please Poll. There is music in little 
Polly Dutton !” exclaimed the Colonel. 

“Can you start on your trip in the morning?” she 
anxiously asked. 

“ Yes, I can start now if you wish,” said he. 

“No ; in the morning,” she laughed. “ I will write 
a letter to Mrs. Spofford to-night, and it will arrive at M. 
about as soon as you do.” 

“ Where had I better stop w^hen there ?” he asked. “I 
will want some nice quiet place where they are not much 
given to quizzing.” 

She thought a moment, then replied : 

“ I think it would be a good place at Van Bummel’s — 
a thrifty, quiet old Dutch farmer.” 

“The very place. Roast goose! roast duck! roast 
pig !” he exclaimed. 

So he would take shelter ’neath Hans Van Bummel’s 
roof-tree — Hans willing. 

That night, before she slept, Isabelle Iceland penned a 
base falsehood to Mrs. Miranda Spofford in the far away 
north that would start by the morning mail on its fatal 
errand. 

Next morning aunt Judy, according to orders from her 
mistress, was astir at peep of day. She routed Rastus, her 
liege lord, and he in turn shortened the morning naps of 
the other blacks. He went through the quarters 


FAY BANNING. 


95 


yelling, hi yo\ Sambo, Tilda, Da^i'l, Phoebe, Jake, Jeff, 
Phoeyty, Liza, Dido, Hetty, Ike, Ma7idy, Luce, Pompey, 
Tom, Ned, Napoleon Bonaparte,'' and a host of other 
names, saying “git up an’ git ready for a big day’s wo’k 
pickin’ cotton. We done gwine out on de plantation to- 
day. Kaiin ! kaiin ! kaim !’’ 

He was kept busy dodging old boots and shoes and 
other missiles that came to hand as he went the rounds. 

Aunt Judy superintended the culinary department, and 
in household affairs stood next in authority to Miss Isa- 
belle. Judy and Phoeny were always warring for supre- 
macy. Hadn’t aunt Phoeny “alius nursed Master Guy 
an’ doctored him w’en he wuz sick, and’ Fern, on’y for 
her would liev been deader’ n a dooah nail dozens of 
times ’’ (?) “Yes,’’ aunt Judy would say, “ hainti alius 
cooked de food dat hez kept soul an’ body togedder. 
Don’t Marster Guy often say ‘ aunt Judy, who can make 
bread an’ pie an’ cake an’ pickles an’ ’sarves like you can 
make dem.’ On’y fo’ me y o’ d all starve.’’ “Go long 
widyo’,’’ aunt Phoeny would end with, “don’t I doctah 
yo’ own ole carcass an’ keep yo’ on yo’ ole pegs? Wot 
is a dead nigger worth, hey ? An’ your black brats ud 
be under de sod on’y fo’ my yarb teas.- Great heabens ! 
Yo’ am de most ongrateful nigger in all dis broad Ian’.’’ 

When Fuce entered the kitchen, yawning and stretch- 
ing, she was greeted with a good sound cuff on the ear 
administered by aunt Judy who was storming the kitchen. 

“ It am nearly an houah,’’ she said, “ since I tole yer 
to crawl out ob yo’ nest. Now do you hurry ’long an 
bake dem batter cakes. Where on arf am dat lazy 
Phoebe, dis mawnin’?’’ 

“ Cornin’,’’ blubbered Fuce, spilling the batter. 

“ Great Injuns ! Wot yo’ up to next !’’ screamed aunt 
Judy. “ Now I’ll mix up some mo’, an’ ef you spill dat. 
I’ll lam yo’ soundly.” 


96 


PAY BANNING. 


Phoebe now made her appearance. 

“You go back to de quartahs an tell Hetty to wash 
and’ dress dem ar twins, an’ ef dey be yellin’ w’en I kaim 
ober I’ll gib yo’ de wust whalin’ yo’ eber kotched. Yo’ 
heah?’’ 

“Yes,’’ said Phoebe, disappearing. She went away 
muttering, “deed, I’d as soon wash an’ dress a young 
skunk as one ob ole Judy’s trins.’’ 

Isabelle and the Colonel breakfasted at scv^en — an 
unusually early hour. 

“Well, Colonel,’’ said Isabelle, sitting down to the 
table, have you decided at what time to start ?’’ 

“Yes,” he replied, “I will start at nine o’clock. I 
will go by steamer via the Gulf. The City of New York 
leaves at nine this morning.” 

Isabelle accompanied him to the dock. As he stepped 
on board she handed him a roll of bills saying she would 
send him the balance of the first five hundred in a short 
time. 

“Write often,” she said, “and tell me how you suc- 
ceed.” He promised to do so. The bell rang — the gang 
plank in — and the City of New York glided down the 
river bearing the little Colonel away. Isabelle watched 
the boat until it disappeared around a bend, then turned 
away, saying, “Ah, Fay Banning, I think your sun is 
set so far as Dr. Forrester and Guy Iceland are con- 
cerned.” 

As Isabelle rode homeward she was lost in reflection. 
She did not even notice Doctor Forrester as he rode up 
and passed her in his carriage. She was entertaining 
idle fancies — bright ones to her — of the future, when she 
would rise by another’s fall and gain the love of one she 
would peril her life to win — yea, sell her very soul. 

vShe doubly felt that she must crush Fay Banning. If 
Fay wedded Guy, and she, then, was not successful in 


FAY BANNING. 


97 


capturing the handsome Doctor, she felt she would lose 
her magnificent home with her brother. 

“ I will surely win in this,” she remarked, and add- 
ing, in a lower tone, ” I feel almost equal to the task of 
baffling Satan himself;” but the wicked woman trembled 
as she thought of a God whom none could baffle, and 
who, one day, would inevitably call her to account. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The reader is already familiar with Colonel Tewks- 
burry’s first success at the north. 

When Fay awoke next morning the sunlight w’as 
streaming into the room through the latticed wiudows. 
Fern was still soundly sleeping. Fay experienced a dull 
headache, the result of her frightful dreams. She arose 
and dressed herself in a dainty mpr^iing gown, then went 
to a table and took from a little cabinet inlaid with prec- 
ious stones, a little roll of something, seemingly very 
precious, and two daguerreotypes. Sitting down by the 
window she opened one of the cases which revealed the 
face of a young and beautiful woman with the blush of 
maidenhood yet apparentl}" on her cheeks. It was her 
mother — the one whom she had never known. Her 
eyes dimmed with tears as she gazed at the picture — the 
face strikingly her own image. As she wiped away a 
tear that fell on the face of the picture she murmured: 

“How I have always hungered for a mother’s love! 
Dear mother in heaven, look down this morning on your 
orphan daughter soon to be a wanderer again. I will 
some day meet 5^011, and I so often wonder if we shall 
know each other there,’’ she said, gazing again at the 
face, pensively. 

After a little time she opened the other case, which 
contained her father’s picture. She had been her father’s 
idol, and the remembrance of him under the circumstan- 
ces, caused her cheeks to be bathed afresh with tears. 

The roll contained a long brown curl, cut from her 
mother’s head, and a lock of her father’s hair. Often 
times, when mentally depressed, Fay had found great 


I?AY BANNING. 


*99 


comfort in gazing at these precious relics which the gold 
of kings could not buy. 

When Fern awoke she arose noiselessly and carefully 
stole across the room to where Fay was seated by the 
window, and startled her by bending down and kissing 
her. 

“ ’Tis the old, old story again. Fay,” she said. 

” Yes,” replied Fay, “ ’tis the sweet old, old story.” 

Fern then sat down on a low seat beside Fay taking 
the picture of her mother, and after gazing at it for some 
time remarked: “I never saw the face look so sweet as 
now.” 

” It just looks as though she wanted to speak out of 
it this morning. It seems almost cruel to shut her away 
again,” Fay said, closing the cases and returning them 
to their accustomed places in the cabinet. 

“ Fay, have you no near relatives? I have never 
heard you speak of any,” said Fern, looking curiously 
into her eyes. 

“Yes, an aunt; my mother’s only sister. My mother 
was an English lady whom my father met and wedded in 
Italy. My aunt is a Duchess, and regarded my mother’s 
marriage beneath her station, my father possessing no 
title. After mamma died, my aunt ceased writing and 
and consequently I am alone in the world as far as rela- 
tives are concerned.” 

Fay was thoughtful for a moment then added: 

” In December my term of tutorship expires. I have 
written to Madame Bousson for a position as teacher in 
her school, and if I succeed won’t it be fine, as it will 
enable us to spend the greater part of two more years to- 
gether? ’ ’ 

” Well, if you don’t succeed we will not be separated I 
can tell you,” said Fern, throwing her arms around Fay’s 
neck, “unless the doctor — ” 


100 


FAY BANNING. 


“ I think Mrs. Bousson will give me a position if there 
is a vacancy,” Fay went on, “ that I would be capable of 
filling. If there is none, I will enter a charitable institu- 
tion for little waifs in Baton Rogue. I shall receive 
no salary there — only getting my board and clothes.” 

“ You shall do no such a caper, my dear.” 

“ I should do something for the promotion of the Lord’s 
cause. I have no money with which to do it — only good 
health, and, thank God, that is all I ask.” 

“Well, if that is what is troubling you,” said Fern, 
laughing, ‘ ‘ to become a benefactress and care for little 
waifs, papa shall see that your part is done without your 
standing over the nasty, wiggling, writhing little things. 
And now I beg you to let this subject drop.” 

” So be it,” said Fay, smiling. “This is Thursday,” 
she said, gazing dreamily out of the window. “Next 
Tuesday we start for the sweet, sunny south. And, by 
the way — you willing — we will go by th^ way of Cincin- 
nati this time, instead of the Gulf, and visit my old Ken- 
tucky home on the way. What say you, darling?” said 
Fay, kissing her. 

“Any where on earth you lead, Fazy, I will follow.. 
But I do not imagine we shall meet with a very cordial 
reception at Tewksburry’s. What think you ?” 

“ No ; I do not anticipate a very great ovation there. 
I do not expect to nettle them up, however. I only dread 
going back for one reason ” — and her face assumed a look 
of anguish. “ I had a fiancee,” she said, hesitating, as 
if questioning the discretion of divulging her secret. 

“I always thought as much,” said Fern, taking her 
hand confidingly in hers. 

“I loved Arthur Kllsmere,” resumed Fay, “as I 
loved my own life. My earliest recollection of a play- 
mate is of him. Scarcely a day passed but we were to- 
gether. Were I to go back to the old home, every tree 


FAY BANNING. 


101 


in the yard would tell of little games we played beneath 
its ■ branches. Each meadow brook would talk of little 
fishers that strolled along its banks, or waded in its 
waters, till their gariiients were heavy with the wet. 
Thus we grew up to manhood and womanhood together. 
It was our parents wish that we would some day wed, 
and when we were no longer children, and ceased to in- 
dulge in childish sports, I gave him my heart and pro- 
mised to be his wife. To-day — though he be firlse — he 
is as dear to me as the ruddy drops that course my veins 1 
Celia Tewksburry, not content to share my home, must 
wreck my life ! By a cunning artifice she succeeded in 
winning Arthur’s love. What is man’s love,” she- said 
with bitterness, ” but inthr.illment to every pretty face! 
Forgetting the last at each new one he meets ! 

‘‘ How different wiih woman ! When she loves ’tis to 
embark the whole soul in the traffic of affection , and if 
disappointed, she. is without hope — for it is a bankruptcy 
of the heart.” 

When Fay had finished she was pale and trembling. 
Fern drew nearer, rested her head on her shoulder saying, 
” Poor girl I you are the victim of cruel treachery I Do 
you regard all men as fickle as Arthur Kllsmere?” she 
asked, intently gazing into Fay’s face. 

“You say all men, dear girl, and thus your question 
sweeps too wide. I hesitate to answer that. The world 
would call me narrow-minded to judge them ^// by one. 
Yet to me now they all seem one, and my experience 
teaches me, at least, they are rather vicissitudinous. The 
more because of Arthur’s strict integrity as he grew up.” 

” I had begun to think of Clyde Eeslie as my earthly 
star,” said Fern, thoughtfully, ” but I deem it wise to 
hold my affections in strict reserve since your betrothal 
has brought you such misery. Any way he may make 
the advances. But do you know what has become of 


102 


FAY BANNING. 


young Bllsmere ? He cannot have wedded the fair 
Celia.” 

“ No,” Fay replied, ” I drew from the Colonel’s con- 
versation that she is still unmarried. Of Arthur’s for- 
tunes I gleaned not a word. No doubt the maidens he 
has wooed and cast ruthlessly aside after they have re- 
ciprocated his dove-like cooings, are as multitudinous as 
the sea sands. Pardon me for the hyperbole. ” 

“ How did he manage to let you know his love had 
waned for you ! Did he make open confession?” Fern 
asked. 

“No; I found .several letters that Celia had dropped 
in the hall one morning as I was going down to breakfast, 
I instantly recognized the handwriting as Arthur’s. I 
had noticed him and Celia together frequently just pre- 
vious to that, but thought nothing strange of it. When 
I found the letters, my desire to learn the truth moved 
me to read them. They were full of love for the artful 
Celia. Such deep regrets as he expressed for finding him- 
self fettered before he knew what love really meant, v^ere 
quite enough to lacerate a heart of stone ! I gave him free 
that night. I packed some clothing and a few precious 
mementoes in a small satchel and noiselessly left the 
house and stole away in the night. Only God in heaven 
knows the anguish I felt as I paused at the gate to take 
a last look of my old home 1 Old Bowser, the watch- 
dog, followed me down the walk, and when I turned to 
look back, came up to me wagging his tail and rubbing 
his nose against my hand, as if to say, ‘you have one 
faithful friend.’ I bade him go back to the house and 
hurried out of the gate and away. I had not walked far 
when I began to grow afraid. I turned to go back. 
Then remembering I no longer had any right to the did 
home, and not one friend left, save a faithful few among 
the blacks, I turned again and hurried on my way. 


FAY BANNING. 


103 


Every strange sound I heard struck terror to my heart ! 
Every object I could discern in the darkness shaped itself 
into some hideous monster threatening to catch me ! I 
shrank with curdling aw^e at the sound of my own foot- 
steps ; and dared not look over my shoulder lest I should 
behold some uncouth being tramping close behind me ! 
Thus, my teeth chattering with fright, I walked all 
night. I had determined to go to Frankfort, and there 
take a boat for the down river country. Eong before 
morning I gave up hope of being on the right road, but 
still trudged on. Imagine my delight when at last I be- 
held a ray of light stealing across the eastern sky ! At 
last day dawned. Glorious day 1 Never so beautiful to 
me before ! How sweetly the little birds sang — welcom- 
ing the stranger ! Imagine my joy, too, at finding I was 
on the right road. Weary and footsore I entered a grove 
by the roadside and sat down beside a large elm tree to 
rest ; and leaning wearily against the trunk I soon fell 
fast asleep. I had slept perhaps two hours when I was 
awakened by voices near me, and springing up I stood 
face to face with an old man who expressed very much 
surprise. I explained that I was traveling and sat down 
to restand fell asleep. I inquired the way to Frankfort 
and walked on, the old man gazing curiously after me. 
I found myself too hungry and weary to walk farther. 
Afraid the Tewksburrys’ would scour the country for 
me, I dared not venture to a house to ask for food. I 
venture to say they never searched for me farther than 
the well or cistern lest I be in one or the other, and spoil 
the water!” she said, laughing. “Fern, are you not 
tired of this 1” she asked. 

“No, go on,” said Fern, striving to keep back the 
tears. 

” I soon entered a wood again and sat down to ponder 
on my abject misery. I had now traveled about twenty 


104 


FAY BANNING. 


miles and it was still fifty more long miles to Frankfort. 
It seemed utterly impossible for me to walk the remain- 
ing distance, so I determined to hazard pursuit and ask 
for food at the first house I could reach, and try to hire 
some one to convey me the remainder of the journey. I 
started on with renewed hope, and walking along the 
turnpike a short distance, espied a farm house a little 
farther on. As I approached the gate a burly looking 
mastiff came bounding out to intercept my entrance. A 
black boy, hearing the barking of the dog, came from 
behind the house to learn the cause, and, seeing me, 
came running to the gate, collared the dog, and invited 
me to enter. 

“I was met at the door by an elderly lady with a 
pale, sweet face which I still remember ; and with the 
sweetest voice she invited me to enter, and set for me a 
great arm chair with cushions, which I sank into with- 
out a second invitation. I had never appreciated an 
easy chair so much before ! How it eased my aching 
limbs ! The room was richly furnished, showing taste 
and wealth. The kind old lad}^ whose name I learned 
was Mrs. Adams, urged me to take off my hat, which I 
did, and asked if I w’ere traveling. 

“ I saw something so sympathetic in her nature and I 
so longed for just one comforting word, that I could not 
forbear telling her my whole story. When I had finished 
she was weeping, and she came and kissed me, then 
left the room to order dinner, for it was nearly noon, 
and I had had nothing to eat since the previous even- 
ing Returning she brought me a roll and a cup of coffee 
to appease my intense hunger until dinner would be 
ready. 

“Mrs. Adams forbade my leaving that evening and dis- 
pelled my fears of pursuers. She had buried her only 
3011 only a few months before, and when she succeeded hi 


FAY BANNING. 


105 


disposing of her property would leave for San Francisco 
to live with her daughter. She begged me to stay and 
go with her, but I refused. ’Twas pride that made me 
do it. I thought it would be charity, and I disdained 
anything of the kind as long as I was able to earn my 
living. I had only two hundred dollars, and when that 
was gone I would be at the mercy of the world, and fear- 
ing her daughter might think me an object of charity, I 
thanked her for her benevolence as best I knew how, but 
she seemed grieved at my decision. 

“ Next morning when I was ready to proceed on my 
journey I found Mrs. Adams’ carriage waiting at the 
door to take me to Frankfort. As I was about to step 
into the carriage, she slipped a little purse of money into 
my hand and kissed me, saying, ‘ May God protect you 
and watch over you, my dear child, good-bye.’ and the 
carriage rolled away. 

“I arrived that evening in Frankfort, at sunset, and 
stopped at a hotel for the night. After supper I picked 
* up a New Orleans paper and running down the column 
Waiited, saw your father’s advertisement. It impressed 
me as being just the one, and I resolved to hasten with 
all possible speed to New Orleans to answer it. Next 
morning I left Frankfort on a boat that carried me far 
away from dear old Kentucky, and here I am to-day !” 
she exclaimed, grasping Fern and shaking her. “ How 
cold you are, child ! Run to your room and dress and 
‘ we will go down to breakfast !” 

Fern went to her room, brushing the tears from her 
eyes, and soon called for Fay in the hall, and the}^ tripped 
down the stairs and into the dining room where breakfast 
was awaiting them. 

Mrs. Rouncer soon came in with a cheery “good 
mornin’ girls,’’ and bearing a tray, her face as radiant 
as a Hallow-een pumpkin, from the heat of the kitchen' 
stove, 


106 


FAY BANNING. 


“Next Tuesday you will be through with us trouble- 
some creatures for a good long time again, Mrs. Roun- 
cer,” said Fern. 

“What 1 do you start home ser soon as that I ’Deed, 
’twill be a long, lonesome time ’fore I see you again ! 
Won’t yer pa be up this fall, dear?” Mrs. Rouncer 
asked. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Fern. “ Perhaps not. I hope 
he w'ill be at home when we arrive. I long to see him so 
much.” 

“ ’Deed, I bet you do,” said Mrs. Rouncer. 

“ How cold the nights are growing! ” said Fay. “The 
fire seems so cheerful this morning I ’Tis time we were 
betaking ourselves to some warmer clime.” 

“ Rhyme 1” said Fern. “ Wonder now if you couldn’t 
write poetry ; like some of these soft summer school 
marms here in the north.” 

“I never felt much inspiration in that line,” said Fay. 
“ Let’s see. I believe my muse did begin to plume itself 
once, away back'in the time w^hen I lived in Kentucky. 
I wrote a* poem on Springtime, but as it was in the 
autumn when it eked out, it didn’t take ver}^ w^ell. The 
editor printed it wnth an apology,” she laughed. 

“ Why didn’t you try it on winter,” said Fern. “You 
might have done something like this : 

‘ When the ax- helve warms at the chimney j'amb I 
And hob-nailed boots on the hearth below, 

And the house cat curls in a slumber calm, 

And the eight-day clock ticks loud and slow ; 

When the harsh broom-handle jabs the ceil 
’Neath the kitchen loft, atid the drowsy brain 
Sniffs the breath of the morning meal 

As the scent of the buckwheat cake grows plain — 

O then is the time for a brave refrain ! ’ ” 

“ Haint that purty I” said Mrs. Rouncer, when Fern 
had finished, “Seems so natcherl !” 


FAY BANNING. 


107 


“Yes; I thought it sublime, and caught it up as soon 
as I read it, “ said Fern mischievously. 

“ Wouldn’t this be a delightful morning to drive ! Let 
us go for the mail,” said Fay. 

“Just the thing,’’ said Fern. “Wonder if we won’t 
meet the light-hearted little Colonel somewhere. Isn’t 
he a wag, though I” 

“Rather amusing, no doubt, for a short time. His 
ainnmg remarks are perfectly flatulent to me. I do hope 
he won’t call here. I had such a strange dream last 
night. I shudder to think of it !’’ said Fay. 

“ If he drops in you may let me do the entertaining. 
We seem to be kindred spirits. ’Where now is the good 
old ’Lijah?’ ’’ said Fern, turning to Mrs. Rouncer. “We 
wish to have the carriage brought around this morning.” 

“ I’ll tell him,” said Mrs. Rouncer, starting out. 

That afternoon, as they were sitting in the drawing- 
room, they beheld Polly Dutton come tripping up to the 
hall door and ring the bell. 

“ Wonder what is in the wind now,” said Fern. “Some 
poor sinner is bound to ‘kotch it.’ ” 

Mrs. Rouncer soon came to the drawing-room door and 
announced Polly as an afternoon caller. 

“Oh, spare us 1 We do not deserve such punish- 
ment !” exclaimed Fern. 

“ Show her into the sitting-room, and I will be there in 
moment,” said Fay, somewhat confused. 

Fay feared Polly’s grating tongue since she had exposed 
her little ruse, and she nervously rose and prepared to 
meet the clashing creature. 

Fern followed Fay into the sitting-room to hear who 
the widow Snugg had been trying to captivate lately, or, 
that the widow Dodger was not now living above sus- 
picion, or, perchance, what the “ drumlie Dutch” were 
doing. After greetings were exchanged Polly said ; 


108 


FAY BANNING. 


“I didn’t cum to stay long. I merely dropped in to 
see if you had anything worth readin’. I declare I’ve 
read nearly everything in the neighborhood. Father an’ 
mother go to bed real early — they haint feelin’ a bit well 
this- fall. I kin see they’re failin’ fast within the last 
year. I don’t want to go to bed when they do an’ so I 
read everything I kin find. I’ve nothin’ now though to 
to read.” 

Polly was now seized with a violent fit of coughing. 

” O, we have some just lovely books to read,” quickly 
replied Fern before Fay had time to answer. ” I’ll lend 
you a book that papa presented to me last Christmas, and 
I am sure you will be delighted with it ! Every one is !” 
she said, leaving the room. 

Fern remembered having heard that Polly was perfectly 
illiterate ; not being able to read a word, and so she at 
once concluded that there was truly ‘ ‘something in the 
wind,” and began to prepare for breakers. 

“So Mis Van Bummel give a high tea 3dsterday to a 
favored few,” began Polly, fidgeting around. 

“Yes,” replied Fay, ‘ ‘ we spent a pleasant time with 
her, yesterday.” 

‘‘ Who’s that male that is stoppin’ there now. I passed 
there, ^/isterday, when you was walkin in the orchard, 
an’ I couldn’t make out who for the life of me he was.” 

“It is Mr. Allen Tewksburry,” said Fay, turning 
crimson. 

“Red’s a beet!” thought Polly. “Well, then, he 
must be some kin o’ yourn ?” she said aloud. 

“Yes,” said Fay hesitatingly, “ a step-father.” 

Fern now returned with the book. Fay glanced at the 
book to see what she had brought for Polly, and crim- 
soned still more deeply on beholding Polly presented 
with a Bible, 


FAY BANNING. 


109 


“I’d better go,” thought Polly, glancing at Fa}^ “ or 
her face ’ll bust into a flame ! ” 

So taking her Bible, with great promises of care, and a 
speedy return, she tripped away. She remarked as she 
looked back, when she had reached the gate, “ I do love 
to make folks happy !” 

“ O, Fern lycland !” exclaimed' Fay, with a suppressed 
smile, when Polly had departed. How could you do 
that? Give her a Bible ! I hope no one will hear of the 
trick you have played off on the unsuspecting creature!” 

“She wanted something worth reading, and I am sure 
she has got it. Something, too, that will not corrupt her 
good morals. She has the best book the house affords. 
I have heard, too, that she does not read. She didn’t 
want anything to read — she came for news 1 What did 
she say while I was upstairs ?” 

“ She came to find out who is stopping at Van Bum- 
mel’s. She passed there yesterday when we were walk- 
ing in the orchard and saw us ” 

‘ ‘ Did you tell her wdio it is ? . 

“ I could not easily avoid it,” replied Fay. 

“I wouldn’t have gratified her. I am so sorry I 
wasn’t present when she asked.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


The day succeeding the one on which occurred the 
events narrated in the last chapter, dawned bright and 
beautiful. The sun rose broad and red, but even now at 
noontide, the sunlight was subdued and chastened. It 
was a golden autumn day, and the first day of October. 

The stillness of the quiet afternoon was only broken 
by an occasional report of a gun in the groves. Fay and 
Fern went for a walk and strolled along the river, en- 
chanted with the glow of early autumn. 

The rocks and the trees clothed with the most brilliant 
hues, were pictured in the water, the river seeming a 
great mirror. 

They seated themselves on a log in a little copse of 
maples through which glided a small brook, with just 
enough murmer to lull one to reposes^ 

“ There is something in these leaves that seem similar, 
to me, to the life of a Christian,” said Fay, as she earn- 
estly gazed at a branch of yellow leaves tinted with deep 
scarlet that she was holding in her hand. 

“ How so? ” asked Fern. 

“The falling of the leaf represents death; and the 
beautiful changes immediately preceding, represents the 
constantly increasing beauties of a Christian’s character 
as he approaches immortality.” 

” Isn’t that a solemn, yet sweet and beautiful illustra- 
tion!” exclaimed Fern, as she gazed pensively at a 
bright colored leaf until a tear stole down her cheek and 
dropped on her hand. 

Our giddy little Fern had changed somewhat of late, 
and at times seemed strangely quiet and thoughtful — 
almost sad. 


110 


FAY BANNING 


111 


Fay had marked this change, and now noticing the 
serious look on the fair girlish face, arose softly and 
walked slowly toward the road. 

When she had reached it, she beheld, to her annoyance, 
Polly Dutton tripping gaily toward her 

Fern, having shaken off her serious mood, came danc- 
ing up behind her, and Fay turned to her, saying in an 
undertone: “ O, Fern, here comes Polly Dutton.” 

“Wonder if she has digested her book already?” 
laughed Fern. 

“ Not unless she has steeped it and taken the tea, but 
speak a little lower as she draws quite near. Oh, she 
has the Bible with her, and walks as though she might 
be in high dudgeon. Wonder if she is intent on evil. If 
she had not seen me as I stepped into the road, I w'ould 
have been inclined to beat a retreat. Plow my heart 
beats!” 

“ So does mine,” replied Fern, “but I am going to 
face the music and try to assuage her with a bold front.” 
And she tried to look bold, but the color left her cheeks. 

“ Good afternoon! ” said Polly -wiggling up, without 
the least sign of battle. ‘ ‘ What a splendiferous after- 
noon? How purty the leaves are gittin’ ! ” 

“ Yes! ” exclaimed both girls, elated at the prospect of 
peace. 

“ Is Mis’ Rouncer goin’ up to Mis’ Snugg’s this after- 
noon, to the bee? ” Polly inquired. 

They thought she was. 

“Well, Fern, I brought back your book an’ I’ll stop 
for Mis’ Rouncer as I go ’long, an’ leave it at the house. 
I set up nearly all night to finish it.” 

“ How did you like it? ” asked Fern, venturing a sly 
glance at Fay, who was looking aloft into the trees. 

“I thought it was grand! What a time they had, 
though! But married at last! I’m ever so much obliged 


112 


FAY BANNING. 


fer it. Well, I must be a dodgin’ along,” she said, start- 
ing up the road. 

Had Polly read the Bible through, as she purported, 
she would have found a passage that reads, ” there is a 
time to laugh;” and that time was now at hand for Fay 
and Fern. They started in the opposite direction from 
which Polly was going, neither looking to the right nor 
to the left. A short turn in the road shielded them from 
Polly’s view and they sat down and laughed until great 
tears ran down their cheeks. 

When they arrived at home they found that Mrs. Boun- 
cer had accompanied Polly to the ” bee ” to be held at 
the widow Snugg’s, ” up on the Ridge.” 

Permelia Snugg’s worthy ancestors came from merry 
England beyond the moaning sea, and settled in a fishing 
village on the rugged shore of New England, while Lol 
the poor Indian with his untutored mind! yet wandered 
in the “background,” free as air, hunting and trapping 
for peltry to barter to the “palefaces ” for “ firewater,” 
which gave him nerve and ferocity to batter down doors 
at the hour of midnight, or to give blood curdling yells 
while tomahawking his pappooses and dusky mate. 

Now it came to pass on one cold, stormy night in the 
Ides of March, when the buckwheat batter in a crock 
congealed by the chimney jamb, that old Sock-it-to-’em, 
a testy chief of the Wampanoags, rolled out of bed, and 
plunged out of his wigwam into the night, and with a 
hideous noise like that of some wild animal in deep dis- 
tress, called his braves around him. Blood was in his 
basilisk orbs. “Take a bee line,” said he, “ for the pale 
face village and send them to the happy hunting grounds 
where a living can be more easily made than by tilling 
the sterile soil of New England.” Every Indian took 
up the line of march, and ere the bell of New Jerusalem 
had tolled the hour of midnight from the steeple, Sock-it- 


FAY BANNING. 


113 


to-’em was into town. He made it nasty for the settlers. 
On the outskirts of the village, in a sequestered nook at the 
foot of a hill, stood the picturesque cottage of old Delahi 
Gunsley, great grandfather of Permelia Snugg. The. 
house was rudely constructed of logs, sods, mud, twigs, 
straw, and a few more easy combustibles for the torches 
of the savages. It was shaped and moulded and fash- 
ioned and anything but built after the style of his king’s 
palace, away back in old England. All-in-all it looked 
quite modern in those primitive times to the centurion. 

Sock-it-to -’em was offered refreshments to keep the peace, 
but it was not pie he wanted, if was a fuss. 

The frightful orgies of the Indians awoke old Delahi 
out of a sweet sleep, and he stepped one foot out of bed 
into a little heap of snow, that had sifted in through a 
crevice in the wall. Then he set the other foot out. He 
quickly perceived what was going on down town, and 
quietly informed his posterity — four sturdy sons and three 
buxom daughters — and the mother that they had better 
‘ ‘git, ’ ’ that if they didn’ t they would ‘ ‘git it. ’ ’ Thus they 
went forth into the storm, either to give battle or flee, 
whichever seemed the more expedient. A glance showed 
them that Sock it-to-’em was having things hisovyn way, 
and thus old Delahi spoke figuratively, a fault which he 
seemed not to eschew in speaking, and told them “to 
light out.” And so the Gunsley’ s left their fireside by a 
path well known to their dear young hazel nutting days, 
that lead to the creek where a small bark lay rocking at 
its moorings. The Gunsleys safely embarked, and out 
of the mouth of the Tittle Skippack they rowed and adown 
the coast fully two knots to a neighboring village, where 
they spread the alarm. 

When old Sock-it-to-’em came and entered the elegant 
home of the Gunsleys and found that his birds had flown, 


114 


FAY BANNING. 


he rent his mantle and was sore grieved. He followed 
the scent, however, as far as the creek, and there lost it. 

The following spring Sock-it-to-’em’s power was 
‘broken, the old fellow being fearfully chastised. Old 
Delahai erected for himself another ‘ ‘ air castle ’ ’ on the 
site of the old one, and there spent his remaining years in 
sweet tranquility. 

His sons and daughters spread over New England, 
and “ Dan’l,” his youngest, went even unto the Hudson. 
Dan’l begat Andrew, and Andrew begat Permelia, the 
relict of the late Zebulon^Snugg. 

Parmelia had been blessed with four lovely daughters, 
but no sons to perpetuate the name of Snugg. Zebulon 
had been a well-to-do farmer, but after his demise Per- 
melia found it very difficult to keep the farm in order. 
The fences were constantly needing repairs; the cows 
would jump into the clover in spite of any thing she might 
do; the foxes and hawks preyed on her poultry more 
than they did when Zebulon was alive. Now that the 
girls were married and gone, Permelia had rather a lonely 
life of it. 

The day on which Polly and Mrs. Rouncer were 
headed for the widow Snugg’ s, the male persuasion of 
“ Pumpkin Ridge ” and immediate vicinity had made a 
“ bee” to dig her ” taters.” while the female persuasion 
congregated “to help her off with her quilt;” and no 
doubt the good wives took advantage of the “ getherin,” 
to see that no attention was paid whatever, by their hus- 
bands, to the widow, during the supper hour. 

A tea party, or any gathering in fact, on “ Pumpkin 
Ridge,” was considered a failure without the presence of 
old Mrs. Meeks, to take the snuff, and Polly Dutton to do 
the gossiping. 

When Polly and Mrs. Rouncer arrived that afternoon 
at Permelia Snugg’s, they found the house already 


FAY BANNING. 


115 


thronged with withered little dames in gay calico gowns, 
and a clever sprinkling of maidens, young and strapping, 
in their teens, clad in more dainty frocks than their anti- 
quated mothers, some of them being white, bedecked 
with pink or red ribbons, showing signs of city innova- 
tions. It was hinted that the “bee” would end with 
a “ merry makin’ ” in the evening, when light-hearted 
swains w'ould dandle their sweethearts through fantastic 
reels, to the inspiring music of Sim Akins’ fiddle. 

Polly and Mrs. Rouncer could not get around the quilt 
and so were given knitting to do. 

“ Mis’ Snugg, how is old Mis’ Hinkley these days?” 
said Polly, after she had become settled. 

“ Not very well, Polly, not very well! ” dolefully an- 
swered Permelia Snugg. 

“ She’ll be a leavin’ the ‘ Ridge ’ one o’ these days fer 
her long home! ” said Nancy Dawson, with a long drawn 
sigh. 

“ Yes’n ’twon’t be many days ayther in my opinion! ” 
added aunt Hepsy Butterworth, wiping her eyes. “I 
noticed her failin’ very fast in the last few days.” 

“It’s an ordeal we’ve all got to go through with!” 
said old Mrs. Meeks, taking out her little black snuff-box 
with a picture of St. Paul’s cathedral on the lid, and opened 
it, tapping the sides with the ends of her fingers to jar the 
snuff into one end. “ Here, Liza Ann, have a pinch,” 
she said, passing it; “its Maccaboy and fresh, too.” 

Eliza Ann Hartwell regaled herself with an enormous 
pinch, then passed the box. 

“ What seems to be ailin’ Mis’ Hinkley?” inquired 
aunt Katherine Skimnierhorn, blowing her nose, which 
sounded like the blast of a trumpet. 

“ Oh, old age, same’s you an’ me!” replied aunt 
Hepsy. 


116 


FAY BANNING. 


“ I don’t b’lieve she’ll ever stan’ the winter if its a 
hard one,” said the widow Snugg. 

“ Well, I think we are going to have a long hard win- 
ter,” joined in Poll}", “ for Sam Arner butchered a hog 
t’other day, an’ he says the ‘ melt ’ denotes it. Wouldn’t 
wonder we’d ketch it for last winter was sich an easy 
one.” 

“Wonder what the dogs were makin’ such a fuss 
about over in the direction of Hites,’ last night?” 
queried old Mrs. Brown. “They howled nearly all 
night. I couldn’t sleep; I was afeared they was chasin’ 
somebody’s sheep. I wanted pap to git up an’ go an’ 
see, but he wouldn’t.” 

“ Our old dog’s neck was bloody this mornin’ ” said 
Polly, “ and we examined it an’ found that a bullet had 
just glazed her throat. She must ha’ got a purty close 
call some’ers! ” 

“ She’d a got a closer one if Zack’s gun hadn’t missed 
fire the second time he shot! ” said old Mrs. Hites, peer- 
ing over her brass framed spectacles with hexagonal 
glasses, while she pointed her long, crooked fore- finger, 
roughened by needle- work, which made it look like a 
nut- meg grater, at Polly. “ An’ I can jest tell ye that if 
you don’t want that old thing killed, you had better keep 
her to home nights an’ off’n our sheep! Zack follered 
her nearly all night, but couldn’t git a crack at ’er till 
just as it was breakin’ day..” 

Polly reddened at the unexpected onset, and stam- 
mered a promise to look after the dog at night; the good 
old ladies came to her re.scue by changing the subject. 

Everything passed off serenely the remainder of the 
afternoon. The supper tables were set under the maples 
in the yard, the evening being so fine and warm; fain 
would I pause to describe the delectable dishes of various 
and almost indescribable kinds that filled the tables, but 


FAY BANNirG. 


117 


I must hasten on with my tale. The widow Snugg had not 
been left to the expense of the sumptuous feast, but kind 
neighbors had brought great baskets most bountifully 
filled. 

After the men had done ample justice to the dainties, 
they withdrew from the tables and gathered around in 
little groups under the trees, talking over' their rich har- 
vests, gossiping over former times, and telling stories, en- 
endeavoringto dress them up with a little becoming fiction, 
while the damsels and dames drew around the festal 
beard and regaled themselves from the abundance that 
was left. 

Polly Dutton had something to tell and had kept it 
pent up in her bosom until they would all be gathered 
around the table, where she might air her story to the 
best advantage. When all were seated she began in a 
loud voice: 

“ Have you heard the late scandal at Glen Hazel? 

Every one listened and some said, “ No.” 

Mrs. Rouncer looked at Polly inquiringly as if to know 
whether she was in earnest or jesting. 

” Sweet pickle that Faith Fariday or Fay Banning has 
turned out to be !” said Polly, beginning to wax warm. 

Every one looks curiously at Polly — Mrs. Rouncer be- 
ginning to look severe. 

” Well, what has she done to start a story ?” inquired 
aunt Hepsy Butterworth. 

“Sha’n’t I warm yer tea, aunt Hepsy?” said the 
widow Snugg, holding the teapot over aunt Hepsy ’s cup. 

“No, thank’ y Permeely ; I’ve all I care for, an’ its 
hot enough this warm evenin’.” 

“Enough I shud think !” said Polly, taking a long 
breath preparatory to starting. “ There has alius been 
a mystery about that Fay Banning, she’s been sort of 
riddle to everybody. Isabelle Eeland has alius tried to 


118 


FAY BANNING. 


find out where the come from an’ all about her, but didn’t 
make the riffle till jest lately. It was alius plain enough 
to me though that she is a southerner born and bred.” 

“Old mother whose son’s dead?” inquired old Mrs. 
Jenks, whose auditory nerves were out of order, as she 
removed a bunch of cotton from one ear with a jerk. 

No one would trouble themselves to explain matters to 
the unfortunate old lady, so she plugged up her head 
again and fell to picking a chicken leg that she had laid 
down beside her plate wdien she thought she heard Polly 
Dutton mention a death. She drew a long sigh as she 
remarked that “chickens genily come home to roost.” 

“ The fust thing that leaked out about ’er,” Polly re- 
sumed, “was that her name is Fay Banning instead of 
Faith Fariday, as she chose to call ’erself, and that she 
run away from home. I never could bear her, an’ alius 
thought there was a nigger in the brush ! Now comes 
the startlin’ intelligence,” and Polly looked around to 
see if all were listening attentively, “that she was too 
intimj’^ with her step-father, an’ her mother drove her 
away.” 

They were all ears now. Some ventured a pitying 
glance at Mrs. Rouncer, who was gazing steadfastly at 
Polly Dutton with a look of mingled shame and scorn. 
Mrs. ' Rouncer loved Fay Banning as a daughter. She 
could eat no more and pushed back from the table. She 
listens while Polly strides along her character crushing 
pathway. Now Polly mounts her hobby and gallops : 

“Her mother, a distant relative of Isabelle’s finds out 
where this Fay is an’ writes to Isabelle, so Miss Spoffbrd 
gits it, that the ole man’s cleared out now an’ is thought 
to be with this Fay. An’ sure enough he has come to 
Van Bummel’s an’ put up, an’ day before yisterday his 
lady love drives up to see him in his snug quarters, an’ 
takes Fern ’long. I passed Van Bummel’s while they 


FAY BANNING. 


119 


was there — so taint nor hearsay — an’ seen them walkin’ 
’round in the orchard, titterin’ an’ laughin’. The very 
idee o’ them girls gum-suckin’ ’round with that old 
man ! 

I s’pose Fern’s innocent enough, though — led into it 
like.” 

‘‘Don’t that beat anything!” ejaculated Nancy Dawson. 

‘‘ Why my sakes 1” said Mrs. Hites, upsetting her tea. 
“If that don’t beat Injuns ! I thought that Fariday or 
Bandaging girl, whatever her name is, about as near per- 
fect as they git on earth. If she turns out bad I’ll put 
no more trust in any earthly bein’ — that’s all 1” 

‘‘ Law me 1 What’s this world cornin’ too I” saidaunt 
Hepsy Butterworth, groaning. ‘‘I’d a picked on every- 
body to have done a think like that afore I’d a named 
Fay Banning !” 

‘‘Alius takes these slick people to do anything like 
that,” said Polly, with exceeding gratification. 

Mrs. Rouncer and Hannah Cook were silent when 
Polly finished her scandal, while the remainder of the 
party— save one — expressed great surprise, and deeply 
regretted that one who seemed so chaste should be so 
steeped in guilt. That one'^ 2 iS Polly Dutton who gloried. 

Supper finished, the tables cleared, and the old ladies 
began gradually to leave. Mrs. Rouncer was starting to- 
ward the gate, her basket on her arm, when Polly Dut- 
ton, scrabbling her things together, hailed her with : 

“W’y my sakes, Mrs. Rouncer I ain’t you going to 
wait for me ?” 

Mrs. Rouncer turned, set down her basket, raised 
herself up to her full height and looked invectively at 
Polly, saying : 

‘‘ No, Polly Dutton, I am not I Oh think of the on- 
merciful lashin’ that you’ve gin poor Fay Banning here 
to-day with your everlastin’ gossipin’ tongue ! Fay 


120 


FAY BANNING. 


Banning is as pure as the snow, an’ this is only a miser- 
able trumped up scheme of Isabelle Iceland’s an’ you a 
tool in her hands to ruin Fay. Never while you live an’ 
draw a breath do you set a foot into tllen Hazel. I shall 
not tell Fay what you’ve slopped over here to-day, an’ 
hope she won’t hear the wicked lie which you’ve got 
started about her afore she goes away ! Poor girl ! she 
leaves next Tuesday an’ never expects to come back 
again, and to leave sich a story as this behind !” and 
with that Mrs. Rouncer b^an crying, picked up her 
basket and started away leaving Polly frightened and 
bewildered, staring after her. 

The coals of fire that Mrs. Rouncer had heaped on her 
head were burning her up, though she feigned a grating 
little laugh as Mrs. Rouncer passed out of the gate. 

“Just hear her laugh !’’ whispered aunt Hepsy to Per- 
melia Snugg. “She is too calloused to be effected by 
word’s. It’s like pourin’ water on a duck’s back.’’ 

Aunt Hepsy’ s remark was overheard by Hannah Cook 
who had been as yet a silent spectator to all that had 
transpired. She arose, walked up to Polly, and menac- 
ingly shook her fist in her face, saying : 

“ Words fail to tech yer heart, which, if j^e hev one, is 
like a little sour cider apple, an’ now we’ 11 see if you can’t 
be reached in some other way. D’ye see that fist. Poll ! 
hey 1 d’ye see that maul ?’’ said Hannah, rubbing Polly’s 
nose. “I’ll give ye jest one mini’t perzactly to clear 
that gate an’ git away ! ‘ Hoop ! big Injun 1 ’ ’’ yelled 

Hannah. 

Polly was now thoroughly frightened, and was backing 
away, when lo I she tripped and fell over a mother dog 
that lay under a tree near the path, giving nourishment 
to her pups. The enraged animal flew at Polly, biting her 
hand, thus adding new terror to the poor creature’s woes. 

“ Be up an’ off with ye 1” screamed Hannah, laughing. 


FAY BANNING. 


121 


The widow Snugg came to Polly’s rescue. Polly scram- 
bled to her feet and running to the gate, said, as she 
passed through, “ I’m a martyr for tellin the truth !” 

That afternoon Colonel Tewksbnrry took advantage of 
the ''gathering” at the widow Snuggs to call at Glen 
Hazel that he might be seen in the society of the young 
ladies by the passers-by, which would confirm whatever 
Polly might tell at the ” bee.” For she was sure to tell 
something. 

The crafty Colonel was successful. He was so agree- 
able in his manners that lovely afternoon that Fay 
hesitatingly consented to walk with Fern and him around 
the beautiful grounds. They were seen by several who 
passed going home from the ” bee,” and thus the desired 
fuel was added to the kindled flame. 

Friday and Saturday Fay received calls from many 
ladies from the village, among whom she counted some 
very warm and intimate friends. On Sunday she led the 
singing as usual, in the little country church. But why 
did the people stare at her! Why the knowing winks 
that were exchai.ged and the disdainful smiles from those 
who had always courted her notice before! 

The minister bade her a cold good-bye. Fay observ^ed 
it all and bathed her pillow with tears that night, won- 
dering why she received such treatment. Monday was 
spent in preparing for the journey. Tuesday morning 
dawned cold and clear. Fay and Fern tearfully bid dear 
Mrs. Rouncer farewell, P'ay feeling that it was, perhaps, 
the last time for her. The carriage rolled away, and 
they watched Glen Hazel until they were out of sight, 
Elijah watched the New York bound train that bore 
Fay Banning and Fern Leland away until it disappeared 
around a curve, then turned away wiping his eyes, say- 
ing: ‘ ‘ Two as true girls as ever the sun shone on.” 


122 


FAY BANNING. 


Glen Hazel is shut up now. Carpets are rolled up and 
stand in corners of cheerless rooms, and the beautiful 
pictures on the gilded walls are shut away from the light 
of day. The leaves are falling, falling down upon the 
short green grass. They rustle in the eddying gusts that 
blow them up in heaps along the hedges. 

The wind howls around the corners of the house; the 
chimneys growl, the sashes rattle in the night winds and 
Mrs. Rouncer again fears ghosts! 

Glen Hazel is shut away from the world for a half year 
at least. 


CHAPTER X. 


It was night in the “Crescent City.” The rain had 
been falling all day — the trees seemed soaked through 
with wet, and drip, drip, drip fell the great drops from the 
dripping leaves upon the broad flagged pavement around 
the lyeland mansion. The murky darkness was becom- 
ing inky black, and the atmosphere was muggy and stifling. 

In the brilliantly illuminated parlor, reclining on a 
crimson lounge, sat Isabelle Iceland looking as gloomy as 
the night. 

‘ ‘ This is the fifth week since Tewksburry left and no 
tidings yeti I may never hear from the worthless fellow 
again! Humph! he may be in Europe by this time! 

But he went to M- all right and received the money I 

sent,” and Isabelle picked up a novel that was lying at 
her side and began reading. Presently the door-bell 
rang and she dropped her book saying — “ I do hope it is 
some one coming to spend the evening, I feel so gloomy! 

She listened to hear if anyone entered the hall, and 
hearing Luce’s great “ yah! yah! yah! ” she bounded up, 
her heart all in a flutter, thinking perhaps the Colonel 
had returned. Luce soon appeared, her whole ebony 
face enlisted in a grin, and announced Clyde Leslie. 

“Show him in, you silly idiot!” Luce dextrously 
dodged the book that came flying at her head, and 
backed away, bowing low as she went. 

“How glad I am it is Clyde! If he has come to spend 
the evening he will revive my drooping spirits. His 
droll remarks would make a mummy laugh! ” said the 
fair Isabelle, smoothing her hair, preparing to meet him. 

123 


124 


FAY BANNING. 


lyuce soon ushered him into the room. How benign 
Isabelle looks as he enters. 

He is a handsome, beardless youth of perhaps eighteen 
or nineteen years. 

He is capable and intelligent beyond his years, his 
mental endowments unusually strong. His fond old 
grandmother, with whom he lives, purposes to make him 
sole heir to her vast estate, and hugs to her heart the 
hope of seeing him a statesman — surmounting the very 
top most round in th^ ladder of fame. He has just fin- 
ished college and is at present a law student. 

His sparkling wit, his vivacity, his genial manners, 
make him a special favorite in society. He is a very 
frequent caller at the Iceland mansion, and a strong at-' 
tachment exists between him and the vivacious Fern. 

“ Dear me, Clyde, how glad I am that you came in! ” 
exclaims Isabelle, advancing. “I was feeling so glum! 
What a dismal day this has been — followed by a wretched 
night! Luce, push that tete-a-tete over this way.” 

“Yes,” replies Clyde, “ I thought you might be dying 
of ennui so I thought I would run over a little while to 
tease you. Won’t you be glad when the folks return! You 
have had a ‘ right smart ’ taste of living alone this sum- 
mer, haven’t you? You want to begin to hustle around 
and find you a hubby, Izzy, or one of these fine days 
you will find yourself ‘ in the sere and yellow leaf,’ minus 
a man! You may have to take me yet, Iz.” 

“More truth than poetry in that, Clyde!” laughs 
Isabelle, looking cream and peaches at him. 

Meanwhile the bungling Luce, who had been grunting 
and labeling with the tete-a-tete, had entangled her feet in 
a rug and now fell her length upon the floor. 

“ Now behold, Clyde, how that thing annoys me forty 
times a day! She doesn’t do one thing without some 


fay banning. 


125 


mishap! Now, my lady, gather yourself tip and leave 
the room immediately! ” 

“Why, lyuce, ‘you have displaced the mirth, broke 
the good meeting with most admired disorder! ’ ’’ laughed 
Clyde. 

Luce “ stood not in the order of her going but went at 
once.” Isabelle and Clyde seated themselves on the tete- 
a-tete, Clyde buoyant and Isabelle cream and peaches. 

“ Why did I not think a little sooner about the theater 
and we would have gone to night! ” exclaimed Clyde. 

“What was the play? ” asks Isabelle. 

“ Macbeth.” 

“Oh, I’m glad we didn’t go! I’ve seen it already 
several times.” 

“ So have I. Yet, somehow,. I never tire of seeing the 
ghost ‘ avaunt ’ and meander up the flume to the tune of 
five dollars a week and found.” 

Luce reappears, thrusts her head in at the door and 
says: 

“ Please Miss Isahbelle, I’se powerful sorry to disturb 
3’o’ but Jake done brought de mail an’ dah is lots of let- 
tabs. Will yo’ hab dem now! ” 

“ Not now. Luce. Carry the letters up to my room! ” 

Isabelle grows fidgety, and presently Clyde thinks 
“ grandmother will wonder where he has gone,” and as 
he “ only dropped in for a few minutes ” he will go and 
let her read her letters. 

So it was. 

“How glad I am that he went so soon. Another 
moment’s suspense would have killed me,” said Isabelle, 
as she flew upstairs to her room to read her letters. She 
finds them on a table and sits down to read. She ner- 
vously tears one opm which she thinks may be from 
Colonel Tewksburry. How her heart beats as she 
reads: 


126 


FAY BANNING. 


“ Goose Heaven, October — st, — 

Dear Cousin Izzy.: 

Circumstances be 5 ’ond my individual controKfor a lapse of time 
effectually forbade my writing you one minute sooner. I was tossed 
about at sea — ugh! how the angry billows surged! — a trifle longer, 
my dear, than I expected to be tossed, hence, the long and cruel 
delay. 

But I feel now in my heart — or head rather — that I should make 
an instantaneous departure from the recital of all adversities that 
beset my path, and made it anything but rosy while I was journey- 
ing to this fair Eden of the North. Eureka!” 

“ Why don’t the goose tell something, if he has any- 
thing to tell! ” snaps Isabelle. 

“ The Van Bummels received me with open arms (metaphori- 
cally speaking) and now I cluster with them around their bright 
fireside, of a chill evening at |5 per cluster — no, seven clusters for $5. 

It is more fun to hear them maw low Dutch than a whole box of 
snakes! — but I can’t do it. ” 

“ Fool! Idiot! Will he ever get to anything! ” snarls 
Isabelle. 

" Everything is running along like a wooden leg. The longer I 
remain, the longer I wish to — ” 

“ Ass! I wish he was in Purgatory! ” hisses Isabelle, 
looking anything, but cream and peaches now. 

” As I pen these lines to thee 
I’m sitting under the hognut tree, 

The hognut tree! The hognut treel 
I am where I would ever be, 

All sitting under the hognut tree! 

How often, Izzy, I think of thee 
• As I sit under the hognut tree. 

Only one thing here that reminds me of thee 
And that is the height of the hognut tree! ” 

She throws the letter down in sheer disgust and stamps 
it with her foot, exclaiming ; “ How I wish it were his 
daft old head I She gazes blankly at the wall for a while, 
then picks up the letter with the determination of finish- 
ing it: 


FAY BANNING. 


127 


“ Mrs. Vau B. gave a high tea 

While the birds sang from the hognut tree. 

“Yes, I had Mrs. Van Bummel invite Fern and. Fay, and — 

“Oh, by the way. 

That Fern is so gay ; 

As fair as the lily, 

And sweet as the May !“ 

“I wish he’d drop dead!” firmly says the divine 
Isabelle. 

“ Only the two ladies mentioned v/ere at the tea. Miss Fay ex- 
pressed great surprise at meeting me, and seemed to regard me as 
an ill wind to blow her no good, and so iced herself up accordingly. 
She thawed out enough, however, to walk in the orchard while 
aunt Katrina prepared the tea. Oh, what a pleasant time we had, 
with the light-hearted little Fern chattering like the wren. The 
waters leaped, the quavering notes of the flip-up-the-creek were fit- 
fully wafted from afar, which were answered by the hoot-ag, while 
the boolah-gha came down to the brook to drink, and the hoo-za-loo 
clucked over in the burdocks !“ 

‘‘May his blood be sucked by vampires I” bitterly. 

“ And while we were walking, who should come flitting by but 
the newsy Polly ! ” 

Isabelle’s interest is now somewhat increased. 

“ Fay concluded at once hbw she happened to be invited, and 
severely criticised the propriety of the affair ; and, according to 
the eternal fitness of things, it w’as a little disorderly and smoky; 
but that adds spice to the scandal. When she left she would have 
forgotten entirely to have invited me to call at Glen Hazel — in 
truth she didn’t invite me. Only for the sportive little Fern I 
would have received no invitation. 

“ But this is the way the climax has been reached in the affair : 
The peasantry of ‘Pumpkin Ridge ’ and vicinity had some kind of 
a ‘ gettin’s up ’ at the widow Snugg’s, where I knew the scandal 
would be freely discussed, providing Mrs. Spofford received your 
letter, and I have since learned she did. I called at Glen Hazel 
that day, and managed to have the ladies strolling about t-he 
grounds with me in full view when the old hetchels were passing, 
going home from the ‘gettiu’s up,’ which would effectually clinch 
the nail. 

“You, no doubt, ere this, have received a letter from Mrs. 
Spofford. 


128 


FAY BANNING. 


“ ’Tis finished. Allen Tewksburry has an ardent desire to travel 
again. Will not take the wing, however, until I hear from you. , 
“Yours 

“till 

“the 

“Stars 

“ melt, 

“ A1.1.EN Tewksburry.” 

“ Good !” ejaculates Isabelle. “ It has worked just as 
I wished it to. But what platitudes he uses to tell it. 
Now, if the scandal was talked over at that ‘ gettin’s up’ 
■as he thinks it was, my triumph is complete. Wonder 
who this letter is from,” taking up another letter and 
breaking the seal. “Ah, from Miranda Spofford ! If 
you’ve played your part, Miranda, as well as the Colonel 
has played his, I hold the winning card.” 

M. , October — st 18 — 

^^Dear friend Miss L eland: 

“ I now set down to take my pen in hand to answer your wel- 
come letter. We are all well as can be expected at the present 
time, and hope these few lines will find you all enjoying the same 
blessing. We are having buteful wether and fall crops are nearly 
taking care of. Every body is very bizzy though. But what a fit of 
constipation our usually quiet neighborhood is throwed into ‘over 
the way that Fay Banning has turned out. Some are talking 
strongly of tar and feathers. That old Tewksburry is staying at 
Van Bummels and Fay and Fern both of them went over to see 
him as. soon as he come. She leding that poor inosent child on, 
and what a wreck she’l’ make of her. He goes over to Glen Hazel 
to see them, and I’ll bet he will foller them when they go away, 
which is next Tooesday. What a poor heart-broken thing his wife 
must be. And what will poor Mister Lelaud think when he hears 
what a notable thing has been trainin’ his child. The thought of 
it just makes me sick. 

“ We are havin’ our yard graded up this fall ; it has always been 
in such a shape. We are going to have a gradual consent from the 
house to the road, and set out the yard full of scrubbery. 

“ Please anser soon, your affectionate friend, 

“ Mrs. Miranda Ann Spofford. 

“ P. S. — I’ll take pains, from time to time, to let you know how 
the thing works. Polly Dutton is very busy on the case. 

“ Miranda. 


FAY BANNING. 


129 


The wicked woman clapped her hands with delight, 
exclaiming: “Ah, this is the thing wherein to make 
Guy Iceland curse the day when Fay Banning entered 
his home ! The very fact of her changing her name is 
the strongest evidence against her ! How cunningly the 
plot was laid 1 How smoothly the play goes on I But 
let me see who these other letters are from, ’ ’ tearing open 
another and reading : 

“ Dear Sister : 

“ Think I may reach home on the 8th,” — 

“ Why that is to-day,” says Isabelle.” 

” Possibly not until the loth. 

” Guy.” 

“ Sorry such news awaits thee, dear brother,” — tearing 
open another letter. 

Dear Aunt : 

‘ ‘ Can it be possible that my dainty niece has forgotten 
herself long enough to address me with dearf First let- 
ter I’ve received from her since she departed. man- 
ners — being reared by that silly Fay. Wonder 'if she is 
becoming sensible in the slightest degree !” 

” Ere this reaches you, will be well on our way. Coming via 
Cincinnati.” 

” Fern.” 

‘ ‘ How sententious 1 And, too, as if I care which way 
they come, or if they ever cornel” she said, gathering 
her brows like a gathering storm. 

That night Isabelle could not sleep, but lay awake 
plotting. The demon that had been caressing her, had 
now possession of her — body and soul. 


CHAPTER XI. 


On the morning of the day that Isabelle expected 
her brother, she informed the blacks that their master 
might return that day, and to have everything in readiness. 

All was commotion now about the late quiet place. 
Aunt Judy would prepare a sumptuous feast for her be- 
loved master, for which she was sure to receive some rich 
gift in the way of return. She had at least a half-dozen 
little blacks in the kitchen, paring fruit, seeding raisins 
and running on various errands. Those who were caught 
eating any of the fruit or raisins received for their punish- 
ment, now and then, a smart application in the rear. 

A favorite dish of her master’s was fricasseed fowl. 
She had dispatched Luce and Jeff to the poultry yard for 
some “ spring pullits,” but they had been gone so long 
she started in search of them, in no pleasant frame of 
mind. 

“ Ef I fin’ um. I’ll make dar eahs ring !” shemutteivd, 
as she hurried along. 

Entering the poultry-yard she beheld Jeff with his head 
thrust into the coop-door, guarding the aperture, while 
Luce was rallying the cackling fowls around inside amid 
great fits of laughter from both. 

“Now, I’ll hist you Jeffahson !” said aunt Judy, as 
she backed up into one corner of the yard. ‘ ‘ I want to 
plant my foot whah it’ll do de most sarvice !’’ and she 
raced across the yard and gave the unwary Jeff a kick 
that drove him bodily into the coop. 

“ Take dat !’’ she yelled. “ Why didn’ yo’ git in dar 
yo’sef, an’ not habdat wil’ cat in dar lungin’ ’roun’ like 
dat !” 


130 


I^AY banning. 


lai 

“O, deed my hull back is stove in !” yelled Jeff. “I’se 
killed ! Aunt Judy has done de deed, too !” 

“ Gedah yo’sef up an’ git me dem hens dis minit, o’ I 
clar to goodness I’ll come in an finish yo’.” 

The fowls were soon caught, and they returned to. the 
house, where aunt Judy found the Princess Henrietta 
suffering from an excess of raisins, and Jeemes, one stage 
farther, had disgorged his overloaded stomach on the 
kitchen floor. ‘ ‘ Go fo’ ole Katie, Luce, to help clean up 
de muss, an’ ef dey aint dead by dat time, I’ll gib dem a 
dose o’ pizen to finish um !” 

While aunt Judy scolds and worries at the house, the 
negroes at the quarters are indulging in a celebration 
over the joyful news of the coming of their kind master. 
They dance and sing : 

No moah lickin’ in de quartahs, 

“No moah lickin’ in de quartahs, 

“ No moah lickin’ in de quartahs, 

“Kase Massa’s cornin’ home!’’ 

Late in the afternoon, Isabelle beheld her brother alight 
from a carriage at the gate. Her heart gave a little bound 
with gladness at first, but she soon curbed all outward 
signs of emotion. She was quite an actress and had 
cunningly determined to appear melancholy, w'hich Guy 
would quickly notice, and later, when he would know 
what had happened to mar her usual gayety, she would 
hesitatingly tell him the story of Fay Banning’s life — of 
the deception practiced on them — wdth clever little 
variations. 

She gives no little cry of delight nor trips down stairs 
and out to meet him, but slowly descends the stairs and 
awaits her brother in the hall. 

The negroes had recognized him when he alighted, and 
their joy knew no bounds at seeing their master once 
more. They ran and gathered around him — aunt Judy 
alone hanging aloof. 


132 


FAY BANNING. 


“Don’t dem illmanniidly niggers know ’taint good 
breedin’ to be de fust to greet Mars Guy ! De}^ should 
wait till he done seed Miss Isalibelle,” she said. 

At last he passed them and ran into the hall where he 
found his sister truly in a fit of blues. 

“ Heavens !’’ she exclaimed, as he kissed her, “ what 
a show that has just been for people who were passing ! 
Why didn’t you drive that pack where they belong. I 
had just begun to get them trained to know their places. 
Now you will spoil them again !’’ 

“Why, what is wrong, Iz?’’ he said, stepping back 
and gazing at her. “ You are looking so dull ! Your 
cheeks with a dry bloom on them like frost-bitten autumn 
leaves 1“ 

“ Humph ! Autumn leaves ! That’s a nice way for 
you to talk to me, considering my unmarried state !’’ 

“You dear girl, you — you are looking ten years 
younger than when I went away. Det us have an end of 
this clashing of swords,’’ and he led her into the sitting- 
room and seated her. 

Guy Iceland was tall, of fine physique, and handsome, 
and of such youthful appearance that he was often mis- 
taken by strangers for a brother of Fern. He had an eye 
of great quickness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurk- 
ing waggery of expression that was irresistable. He had 
a buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present. 

He was very shrewd in business affairs, and had 
amassed a vast fortune. 

‘ ‘ Well, Izzy, when did you hear from Fern last ; or is 
she lurking somewhere near now ?’’ he said, casting his 
eyes about him. 

“ I received a letter from her last night. But pray be 
seated, Guy. How are you feeling? You must be well 
— I declare I never saw you looking healthier !’’ 

“ Yes, I feel very well, ’ ’ he said, seating himself. ‘ ‘And 


FAY BANNING. 


133 


you say you received a letter from Fern last night. When 
are they coming home, or are they waiting for me to 
come after them ?” 

“No, they started shortly after the letter was written. 
They are coming by the way of Cincinnati. They will 
be here within a few days,” says Isabelle, with such a 
woe-begone look that her brother thinks her ill. 

“ How long will it be before I can get something to 
eat. Belle, I feel as ravenous as a wolf!” 

“You had better arrange your toilet right away. 
Dinner will soon be ready.” 

And he retires to his room to remove his dusty travel- 
ing suit, and dress for dinner, while Isabelle .sends a few 
directions to aunt Judy with regard to the meal. 

When he entered the dining-room he found Isabelle 
waiting for him. The table, shining with the most artistic- 
ally decorated silverware, presented an epitome of tropical 
abundance in this season of the year. 

“ I can’t swallow a morsel until I see aunt Judy, who 
has labored untiringly to spread this bountiful feast for 
me,” he said, glancing over the table. 

Isabelle’s only answer was a slight elevation of the nose. 

“ She was too dignified to mingle with the other blacks 
when they came running to meet me, and awaits my com- 
ing at her post of duty,” he said, starting for the kitchen. 

The door leading to the kitchen w^as slightly ajar, 
leaving a small aperture through which aunt Judy was 
peering at her master, wondering if “he had done clean 
fo’got her.” As he pushed the door open and entered 
the kitchen, aunt Judy gave a glad cry, and dropping 
down on her knees grasped her masters hand, kissing it 
many times, exclaiming : “ O, de good Ford did answer 
ole Judy’s prayahs an’ sent yo’ home well an’ strong 1” 
She wept with joy. Her master raised her up and said 
the Ford had been kind to restore his health and permit 


134 


FAY BANNING. 


them to meet again. He asked how she had fared while 
he was away, and how the twins were, and what she had 
done with them. 

“O, dey is well. Mars Guy. Dey is in de quartahs 
now. Miss Isahbelle don’t ’low deni in de house since 
deir lungs is so strong.” 

‘‘What a feast you have prepared for me!” he said, ‘‘I 
never ate a meal while I was absent, aunt Judy, that I 
didn’t think of you.” 

Aunt Judy smiled and said : ‘‘I kum near spilin’ de 
frisky chicken dat yo’ alius relish so well. I had de 
wust time gittin’ up de dinnah yo’ eber heard of — tryin’ 
to git de dinnah an’ help doctah de sick chillun’. I had 
dem seedin razzins an’ dey gorged dey stumicks till dey 
could hoi’ no moah, den onloaded onto de flooah. De 
Princess Henrietta is powerful sick yit.” 

Mr. Deland smiled, slipped a piece of silver into her 
hand, and re-entered the dining-room, where his sister 
was impatiently awaiting his return. 

Home again, Guy Deland’s heart was overflowing with 
happy feelings. During the repast his droll remarks 
would have made infinite merriment for Isabelle had she 
not been playing the role of an impostor. The animated 
conversation was entirely one-sided ; Isabelle’s part in it 
was an occasional sad “yes” or “no.” 

All this was noticed by her brother, and he wondered 
what caused her mental depression . For two days — pain- 
ful suspense of time to her — she continued to sigh and 
look extremely lugubrious before her brother ventured to 
ask the cause of her heaviness. He was accustomed to 
seeing her have “ poor spells,” as he termed them, but 
this one seemed so protracted that one evening, as they 
were lunching after returning from an opera, he said : 
“Well, Mrs. Gummidge, what is going ‘ contrairy ’ with 
you now ? You have been moody and silent ever since I 


FAY BANNING. 


135 


come home ; are you sorry I came ? I am willing to do 
almost anything to make myself agreeable to you. Name 
your terms, and it will be an unconditional surrender.” 

The wily woman loked dolefully at him, saying : “I 
wish what causes me grief, almost beyond endurance, 
might be conveyed to your mind without the telling.” 

“You may write it,” he said, with a roguish look. . 

” Nonsense, Guy ! When you learn what troubles me 
you will be thoroughly sober.” 

He began to look serious, for the thought struck him 
that something had befallen Fern. 

” What can it be, Isabelle ? ” he asked. 

” Come into the sitting-room and I will tell you.” 

They proceeded to the sitting-room, and Isabelle, seat- 
ing herself, directly in front of her brother, began with : 

” Guy, you know I have always held the opinion that 
that Faith Fariday was a person of questionable 
character.” 

‘T know you have, Isabelle, but I always thought that 
you were mistaken.” 

” You will now hear, Guy Leland, whether I have been 
or not. You remember the Tewksburrys, our country 
cousins who have been lost to us for so long ? That wit- 
less, worthless Allen, after the death of his first wife, 
succeeded in marrying a wealthy widow in Kentucky 
who has a handsome step daughter by the name of Fay 
Banning. You remember my writing you that Celia 
Tewksburry, Allen’s daughter, had been here. This is 
her story : That her father and this Fay Banning became 
enamored with each other, and Mrs. Tewksburry drove 
this notorious Fay from home. Recently this Tewks- 
burry has left home and it is learned has been stopping 
at old Hans Van Bummel’s near Glen Hazel, and has 
been paying great attention to this Fay Banning, who 
calls herself Faith Fariday, and is at present the governess 
of your daughter,” , 


136 


pAY BANNING. 


“ Great heavens, Isabelle ! What proof have you that 
that vagabond has been to Glen Hazel?” said Guy Ice- 
land, springing to his feet and turning deadly pale. 

“All I need.” 

And she arose and ran up stairs, soon returning with 
Mrs. Spoflford’s letter. He took the letter, read it shak- 
ing like an aspen leaf. When he had finished it he said: 
“ It is enough!” and left the room. When he reached 
his room he sat down and bowed his head in his hands, 
exclaiming . “Is it possible this fair creature, in whom 
the virtues of a faultless woman seemed perfected, has 
duped me thus ? And worse than all, the companion of 
my angel child! Oh God, if I only knew where they 
were to-night, I would seek my child !” 

And Guy Iceland drank the very dregs of the cup of 
bitterness. 

Isabelle was now volatile, and walked back and forth 
in her room, saying : ‘ ‘ Only one more scene in the play 
and. Fay Banning, you are crushed !” 

O what a tangled web we weave 
When first we practice to deceive.” 


i 


I 


CHAPTER XII. 


The next scene in our story opens again in Kentucky. 

Mrs. Tewksburry owned some lands some three miles 
from home which were planted with cotton. On the after- 
noon on which uncle Remus discovered the iron box, she 
ordered Hawley, the overseer, to have the work done 
early and load every negro into the carts and take them 
off to the Ormsby plantation (as the lower farm was 
called) to be in readiness to begin picking cotton early on 
the following day ; and to send Tom and Joe back early 
to attend to the morning work. 

In vain did Hawley expostulate with her that it was 
useless to take all the infirm and the house servants. 
“ Why,” said he, ” them old rack-a-bones like old Katie 
an’ Ned won’t pick ’nuff cotton to stuff a quilt !” 

‘ ‘ But they can care for the little darkeys and let the 
mothers pick,” reasoned madame Julia. 

‘‘They’d better take care of them at home where 
they’ll have somethin’ to do it on.” 

” Well, mainly, I want them all out of my sight and 
hearing for once, just to see how it seems to be alone,” 
she said, smiling. 

‘‘Laws, Missis I Ain’t ye ’fraid the Bargers ’ll swoop 
down on ye while we’re away an’ carry ye off?” he said, 
looking curiously at her. 

Madame Julia felt the blood mantle her cheeks as she 
stammered ‘‘no;” and turning away said : ‘‘Well, you 
have my orders,” and with that she walked away and 
left him. Hawley straightway set about carrying out 
her orders, much to his displeasure. 

Madame Julia proceeded to the summer kitchen where 

I o- 

lo/ 


138 


FAY BANNING. 


old Sally reigned supreme. Old Sally was a fiery wench 
who was only tolerated on the plantation because of her 
power in bringing all her sub-workers into quick obedi- 
ence. She regarded madame Julia as a usurper of rights 
and her dislike for her was greatl}^ increased when she 
permitted the selling of her husband. Madame Julia 
rarely entered her realm, and thus unmolested she al- 
lowed it to become rather untidy. Intruders were warded 
off with a stout hickory club that reposed on three pegs 
over the door. 

When her Highness entered the kitchen, she found old 
Sally barefooted, sitting on a stool by the stove, paring 
apples, smoking, and watching with pompous vanity two 
girls who were washing. She acknowledged the presence 
of her mistress with a slight nod, smoking tranquilly on, 
but did not rise. 

Madame Julia gazed with wonder for some time at the 
disordered state of affairs. Pointing to a heap of pota- 
toes on the floor she asked ; “ Why don’t you keep those 
potatoes in a box, Sally?” 

‘‘I didn’t have any w’en dey was brought in, so I just 
had ’em dumped in that ar corner till I could stumble 
onto one.” 

Madame Julia picked up a silver butter-dish that was 
on the table. 

” What is this in this butter-dish ?” she asked. 

” O, that’s a little elder salve I done simmered down 
for my sore leg an’ poured it in that ardish to cool.” 

“Couldn’t you have found another dish for that 
purpose ?’ ’ 

“ None so handy as that w’en I wanted to use it.” 

“ You should have used some old dish for that.” 

“ My leg was painin’ too bad to hunt one up. Missis.” 

“ I should dislike to eat butter out of a dish that had 
been used for such a purpose,” 


FAY BANNING. 


139 


“ Deed, Missis, yo’ needn’t ! Yo’ can take the butter 
out onto your plate first, then eat it.” 

‘ ‘ How do you take the salve out of the dish to apply 
it to the sore on your limb ?” 

“I stick in my finger. Missis, an’ then rubs it outer 
my leg.” 

“Sally, such filthy tricks make me sick !” said Ma- 
dame Julia, sharply. 

“ ’Deed, Missis, I don’t count that ar nasty, nohow. I 
lay to have my water bilin’ hot w’en I wash my dishes.” 

“ What is that on the floor, under your stool ?” 

“A hot pie. Missis.” 

“ What is it setting there for?” 

“ Settin’ tharto cool !” 

“ Why didn’t you place it in the cupboard ?” 

“ ’Fraid the mice ud get at it.” 

” Well, then, you might have set it on the table.” 

“ The cats would eat it than” 

Madame Julia next opened a cupboard door, and there 
beheld a plug of tobacco reposing beside a loaf of bread. 

‘ ‘ Sally, what on earth do you keep your tobacco in the 
cupboard for ?” she exclaimed. 

“ Keep it in thar to keep it away from Tobe !” 

“Such filthiness I never beheld before ! — Ach 1 — And if 
here isn’t a comb, too I Oo-h 1 I never can eat another 
bite that you prepare, you dirty old thing you 1 Sally, 
I’ll have you sold to the first trader that comes along, see 
if I don’t!” 

“ Don’t car’!” said Sally gruffly. ^ 

‘ ‘ I am going to send all the darkies — you included — 
this evening, to the Ormsby plantation, to be ready to pick 
cotton to-morrow. I can’t endure your filth any longer ! 
I will prepare my ov/n supper this evening, then I will 
know it is clean. What is this black stuff here in this 
china tea-cup, Sally ?” 


140 


FAY BANNING. 


“ O, some sing-sing root (ginseng) I steeped up for 
Liz’s baby, an’ set it thar to have it handy,” said old 
Sally, smoking on in sublime serenity, looking obliquely 
out of the corner of her half-shut eye at Madame Julia. 

” What is it good for?” asked Madame Julia, smell- 
ing it. 

” O, for most anything. It always comes handy, that 
ar.” 

” What is the matter with Liz’s baby ?” 

” O, it had some kind of stumik complaint, an that ar 
sing-sing root is powerful good for that ar.” 

” I didn’t know that Liz has another baby.” 

” O, Lor, Missis I It’s two or three weeks old, now. I 
hain’t seen the little creetur yit nuther. It’s a boy or a 
girl, an’ I don’t know jest wliich.” 

” Well, you might find something else to steep your 
teas in besides taking my best china tea-cups !” 

” O, my leg was hurtin’ me so jest then I hadn’t time 
to hunt for anything better, an that seemed so handy so 
I jest took that ar. Jane, yo’ hain’t rubbin’ them ar 
napkins ’nuff yit so but what they’ll look grimy. Yo’ 
want to bear on like a hen hatchin goose-eggs! I alius 
does my work neat an clean. O, Lor’ I ” she groaned, as 
if in great pain, and kicking out one limb. 

” What’s the matter now, Sally ?” 

” My leg’s painin’ me again, Missis.” 

Madame Julia continued to make startling discoveries 
in the cupboard. 

” Here is an old pipe, next 1 Sally, why do you keep 
your old pipes in the cupboard ?” 

‘‘To have them handy. Missis. I alius know jest 
whar they ar when they ar thar — an my leg hurts me 
so, genily, I haint pashunts to hunt long for a pipe w’en 
I want to take a few draws.” 

Madame Julia now turned on her savagely. 


FAY BANNING. 


141 


“ Well, Sally, you can cook no more for me !” 

“ Don’t car’ ! Jane hurr}^ up with them ar clothes 1 I 
see yo’ aint takin’ much pains. If they’re dirty, I’ll pay 
yo’ off in hick’ry timber ! If I’se got to go. I’ll lay to 
go kind o’ hard.” 

“ You may just pack up and go to Ormsby. You can 
cook good enough for the darkies, and then you can pick 
some cotton besides. I’m determined to have a new 
cook 1 ” 

“ That ar ’ll be quite the proper caper,” said Sally, in- 
differently. 

“If you don’t cease your impudence, old lady. I’ll 
have you whipped !” said Madame Julia, coloring with 
anger. 

“Missis,” said old Sally, rising, “ if that ar overseer 
ever strikes me a blow. I’ll pizen ’im ! I’m not ’fraid of 
him nor j/ou nuther ! I’m skin an’ bones, flesh an’ 
blood same as you, an’ the same Dord dat made my 
black face made your sandy hair ! I’ve got de same feel- 
in’s as you — they are touched jest as easy an’ pleased de 
same as yourn. You sol’ my chillun, an’ next my ole 
man : dat finished my happiness on arf. Now, w’en I’m 
no mo’ able to clip aroun’ pert an’ spry like, an’ keep 
things tidy like aze I could once, yo’ lay to make a last 
shift like disaran’ driv’ me off hobblin’ on one leg — like 
’nuff sell me. Ole Sally don’t care w’at yo do. Missis, 
on’y member yo’ face the same Lord dat ole Sally faces 
w’en yo’ die !” and she sat down and sobbed. 

This touched Madame Julia’s heart a little, and she 
trembled as she said : “Be ready, Sally, to go with the 
rest this evening.” 

And with that she walked away. 

Celia had not yet arrived from her evil errand to the 
Bargers when the negro exodus took place just before 
sunset. Madame Julia experienced a strange uneasiness 


142 


I^AY BANNING. 


that something had befallen her ; and the uncertainty of 
the Bargers giving any aid, added to her bodings. 

She now regretted having sent for the Bargers. Ap- 
proaching night and what it might bring forth threw an 
added gloom about her that made her feel afraid. She 
paced slowly back and forth through the hall, her hands 
clasped tightly behind her, her face ashy white, thus talk- 
ing to herself : “ Why did I not take the box as soon as 
I discovered old Remus hiding it ? It is mine by right, 
and if it contains what I most desire, and it be destroyed, 
what have I to fear even though that raiding devil should 
hear a thousand times that I had found a mysterious box. 
He could annoy me no more than he does now, and do 
me no bodily harm — and that he dare not do.” 

And her voice grew husky as she said : “ Why did I 
send Celia for those cut-throats ! Quite likely it will 
make the matter worse by far to have the tongue of old 
Remus hushed and have them hold the secret. I’m 
trusting — ah! — ’tis, I fear, satan, and he leads me 
not aright. ’Tis wrong, all wrong 1 Ugh ! The 
thought of what I’m doing chills the marrow in my bones I 
I’ll go .straightway and get that box and send them on 
their way well paid when they arrive.” 

She started, then paused. 

” Ah, no 1 I can’t do that I They hate me, and now 
are likely in the secret, and unless they share the guilt, 
would fiendishly delight in telling what my plans had 
been. How fickle my mind ? Why could Celia not have 
advised me better in this I I will get the box, and if 
they come, will let them get old Remus and let him go 
again 1 She hurried out of the house, proceeded to the 
tool-house, found a hoe and spade, then hastened, as fast 
as her trembling limbs would bear her to the place where 
she saw Remus hide the box, and began digging. 


FAY BANNING. 


143 


Her quaking limbs will hardly bear her up as she toils 
on. Her courage is greatly increased as she sees Celia 
ride up to the stable and dismount. Shejoins her mother 
and relates her story, though somewhat curtailed owing 
to the lateness of the hour. She, too, deems it wise to 
first secure the box, and goes to work with a will. It 
grows dark and their labor is not rewarded. Madame 
Julia has mistaken the spot. They at last give up, re- 
solving to resort to their first scheme. Madame Julia 
will meet her pals at the appointed place and lead them 
in the fray while Celia subsides for the present. Celia 
enters the house and is nonplussed at hearing the door- 
bell ring a little later. She answers the call, and great 
is her dismay on beholding some of her selected friends 
intent upon an evening call. She is ready for any emer- 
gency. Her mamma is quite ill and she must be at her 
bedside. They go and she follows them to the gate 
where she bids them all a kind good night with much 
ceremony. 

Madame Julia was a person of much less resolution 
than her daughter. She paused several times, and was 
on the eve of fleeing back to the house, but the tempter 
whispered to go on. When she reached the appointed 
place of meeting she found that her accomplices had not 
yet arrived. 

Fully half an hour of terrible suspense elapsed when 
she hears them stealthily approaching. Her heart gives 
a fresh bound as they come up, but Barger, discovering 
her, greatly allays her fears by speaking to her. The 
plot is quickly concluded and she leads them away. 

Away back in the time of some of the ancestral Ban- 
nings, while the settlements along the Kentucky were yet 
in danger of Indian raids, a subterranean room had been 
made in the foot of the mountain where they might find 
shelter from the murderous savages. It had been kept in 


144 


FAY BANNING. 


a State of preservation by the later Bannings, through 
reverence for the ancestor who made it. 

It was now regarded by the negroes as the iavorite 
haunt of ghosts and midnight apparitions. They would 
gather around some fireside in winter and listen to mar- 
velous tales told by the aged, of ghosts and goblins that 
haunted the vault in earlier times ; and even now the 
more brave who dared to venture near it at night, saw 
strange sights and heard dismal sounds issuing forth from 
the earth. 

All this told in a drowsy undertone, the countenances 
of the listeners only now and then receiving a casual glow 
from the dying embers, terrified the poor creatures until 
their wool unkinked and their teeth chattered. They 
avoided the vault even in broad daylight, and the most 
rebellious spirit was intimidated by a threat from Madame 
Julia to send him thither. 

In this place uncle Remus could be safely shut until 
further plans could be made for his disposition. 

The reader is already familiar with the disastrous attack 
on uncle Remus. 

The dogs in their kennels united in their howls to 
make night hideous. As Madame Julia was passing the 
out-kitchen, the late department of old Sally the cook, in 
her flight, she observed a light and entered as the first 
place of refuge. She found Celia there preparing her 
supper. Madame Julia dropped down upon a chair, 
gasping for breath, her face colorless. Celia dropped 
the plate she was holding and ran forward, exclaiming : 
“ What dreadful thing has happened ?” 

Madame Julia related what had taken place as well as 
she could between breaths, and ended with : ‘ ‘ Who could 
the second party be, Celia ?” 

Celia’s heart gave a great bound as she exclaimed ; 
“Arthur E^llsmere 1 To-day as I was passing up the 


FAY BANNING. 


145 


gulch I heard the report of a gun near the road— so near 
that it frightened my horse. The thought struck me at 
once that it might be Kllsmere. I galloped away, but I 
believe it was he and that he saw me and followed me. I 
returned by a circuitous route to evade any pursuer. 
That is why I was so belated.” 

” O, Celia, what can be done now ! He has the box, 
and if it contains the will we will be sent adrift if that 
Fay can be found. He will advertise for her in the lead- 
ing papers, andmo farther away than New Orleans, she 
will be likely to discover the advertisement soon. Then 
to be routed with all this disgrace !” 

Celia looked gloomy as she replied : “As for the dis- 
grace I don’t care a straw ! But I do dread the thought 
of being turned adrift with nothing. I would have no- 
thing but my good wits to depend on for my living. 
That stick that I am obliged to call father would be no 
help to either of us. What do you suppose Barger and 
Beggs will do ? We ought to see them again. Do you 
think they will put right back again into their mountain 
fastness ?” 

“O,” replied Madame Julia, “I’m sure I don’t know. 
I don’t know what to think or what to do 1 I feel nearly 
wild over the w^ay it has turned out I” 

“ Well, don’t you suppose there was some provision 
made for you in the last will so that you will not be left 

tirely destitute even if it does turn up.” 

“ I hav’n’t the least idea, Celia, that he left me more 
than a few hundred if he did that well. He was so com- 
pletely absorbed in that Fay that I do not doubt but 
that he left her all.” 

“ Well, I’m sure I don’t know what to do at present. 
Do nothing I guess until we hear what Ellsmere has 
found.” 

“ But the disgrace, Celia I 


FAY BANNING. 


liG 


Humph ! Disgrace ! Our pluck is rather to be ad- 
mired !” 

“It will be anything but admired.’ 

‘ ‘ Hark ! I hear footsteps 1 ’ ’ said Celia grasping her 
revolver and stepping up near the door to guard the 
entrance. Her pluck gave Madame Julia courage and 
she armed herself with the fire-tongs and stood at Celia’s 
left. The footsteps came nearer — on, on up to the door- 
step. A whispered consultation took place, followed by 
a light rap on the door. 

“ Who is there?” bravely demanded Celia. 

“Jim Barger,” answered a gruff voice, guardedly. 

Celia opened the door, and Jim Barger, followed by Nat 
Beggs glided into the room. Celia placed chairs for them 
on one side of the stove while her mother and she took 
seats on the opposite side. 

Madame Julia began with : “ Well, we succeeded 

rather poorly. ’ ’ 

“You’re durned right !” answered the disgruntled Jim. 
“Did you git a crack over the cocoa-nut, too, Mis’ 
Tewksburry ?” he asked. 

“No, I escaped bodily injury but I was frightened 
nearly to death. The w^orst of all I lost the box !” 

“Great Ducifer, woman ! You don’t mean to tell me 
you lost the chist !” said Barger, leaning forward. 

“ I did !” she wailed, “ and I am afraid that will end 
my right here 1” 

“Take courage, mamma 1” said the ever hopeful Celia. 
“ ‘ There’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip.’ ” 

“Who do you suppose the second party is in this 
affair ?” asked Madame Julia. 

“ That devlish Kllsmur !” howled Jim Barger smack- 
ing his fists ; “ an’ once riled I’d ruther meet any other 
man in Kentuck ! Tord ! But he strikes a heavy blow ! 
Tain’t done with yit, though, by any means 1” 


FAY BANNING. 


147 


“ But he didn’t git the box, though,” joined Nat Beggs. 

” But he didn’t git the box !” repeated Barger. . ” But 
he didn’t git the box ! How d’ye know he didn’t get the 
box? Can you see in the dark, you owl, you! The 
biff you got on your old thinkin’ bunch has onsettled your 
mind 1 Humph 1 Didn’t git the box ! ” 

” I sa}^ he didn’t git the box 1” reiterated Nat Beggs. 

” Where is it then 1 ” exclaimed Madame Julia, start- 
ing up. ” If it is out there yet, let us go and get it 1” 

” Didn’t git the box 1 Why of course he got the box 
you poor fool !” snarled Jim Barger. 

‘‘ But I says he didn't git it I” declared Beggs, nodding 
his head back and forth. 

” Now, Nathaniel Hathaway Beggs, d’ye see this head- 
ache stick I” said Jim Barger, picking up old Sally’s 
hickory club and confronting Beggs. ” I say d’ 3 "e see 
fliis ar headache stick ? Now tell us what 3^011 mean, or 
I vow I’ll lay it on I” 

” Now I’m read 3 " to displain,” said Beggs. 

” plain, you fool !” ejaculated Barger. “ Be kinder 
perlite ’fore ladies.” 

” plain then ! When I got knocked down, I crept 
away a few feet then crept back again to see how Jim 
was farin’. I crept up to one of the strangers jest as he 
got the durndest knock from a strange person who ’peared 
on the scene just at that instant. He fell an’ grunted 
like a beef critter. Mr. Newcomer reached down, I 
could see that, an’ picked up whatever my unknown 
friend had in his hand, aiirl was off like a shot. An’ if I 
hain’t drefful mistaken Mr. Newcomer wore petticoats, 
too.” 

This was a strange revelation.. 

” Who on earth and what is this third party !” ex- 
claimed Madame Julia. 


148 


FAY BANNING. 


“Don’t that beat the United States!” added Jim 
Barger. 

“The mystery deepens !” said Celia. 

Who the strange person could be seemed quite beyond 
their power to conjecture. The more they tried to solve 
the mj^stery, the more the wonder grew. Finally Jim 
Barger exclaimed that it was the de’il, after which un- 
deniable apothegm the conversation came to a stand. 

It was decided that the men should return home that 
night and await further developments. They were only 
to return after seeing a preconcerted signal that should 
be placed in the garret window in the evening. 

They were just about to depart when Madame Julia 
gave a scream, at the same time clutching Celia by the 
arm, and pointed to a window back of them, at which 
Celia glanced just in time to see a face disappear — white 
and bespattered with blood. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


Scarcely had the beautiful Aurora blushed, and given 
bright Phoebus time, as he rose o’er the eastern hills, to 
absorb the liquid pearls that glittered in the early light, 
by the warmth of his genial rays, on the morning that 
Fay and Fern departed from Glen Hazel, that Colonel 
Tewksburry, eradicating all signs of sleep from his 
drowsy members, rose up, and proceeded to arouse the 
churlish Peter who was yet in slothful slumber wrapt, in 
his room across the hall. Peter had made rash promises 
ill the evening, to awake with the morning light and 
equip the Colonel for a squirrel hunt. The Colonel, on 
entering his room, finding him still snoring, paused and 
said, “ O thou happy, happy squid! Happy, above all 
that live on the face of the earth, who, neither envying 
nor envied, canst take thy needful rest with tranquility 
of soul. In a narrow sphere, thy mind doth not plot 
machinations to affright thy dreams! Ah, now a smile 
plays around thy mouth! Perchance thy dream is an 
enchanting scene, where hovering angels fan thy face 
with their white wings, now in reality that one draws 
divinely near.” The Colonel now began tickling the 
pug nose of Peter with a feather, whereupon his smiles 
increased. 

“Sleep on! ” said the Colonel, cautiously applying the 
feather, “a thousand times I say, sleep on! Thy tender 
heart hath not yet been sacked, and for fair lady it doth 
not bleed great ruddy drops. Ambition doth not dis- 
quiet thee nor^the world’s vain pomp desturb thy peace. 

Thy chief concern is the care of the shoat, grunting in 
the abundance of his pen, while to thy master is commit- 

149 


150 


FAY BANNING. 


ted the comfort and protection of thy body; a burden the 
master bears by nature and custom. The servant sleeps, 
the master lies awake considering how he is to maintain 
him. When the heavens are obdurate in withholding 
the moisture necessary to refresh the earth, the servant 
slumbers as tranquilly as in the season of abundance and 
fertility, for the master must provide in times of famine 
and sterility. ‘ Marry,’ that such a pretty flick of poetry 
should be wasted on this pig-headed Peter. Pete !” he 
shrieked in his ear, while the terrified Peter bounded into 
the air and screamed, “ Mein Got in himmel, safe meT' 

Seeing the Colonel, Peter immediately apprehended 
the cause of his fright, and remembering his promise in 
the evening to lead him, at peep of day, to a chestnut 
grove where there were plenty of squirrels, hastily began 
dressing. 

When Peter had completed his toilet, they took their 
guns, and quietly leaving the house, crossed the fields 
and ascended a woody height back of the farm. After 
an hour’s hunt, Peter returned home, leaving the Col- 
onel to enjoy the sport alone. He succeeded in bagging 
quite a number of the frisky little fellows which ran 
whisking here and there through the branches of the trees, 
chattering to the pattering of the falling nuts. 

He returned home at noon feeling much fatigued after 
his long tramp. A refreshing little nap after dinner 
restored his usual exhuberant spirits. From his window 
in the quiet afternoon, he sat gazing at the forests which 
had now taken on a somber brown, reminding him of the 
approaching winter. His thoughts reverted to his Ken- 
tucky home, whither he must soon be going. 

“ I must write,” said he, “ to the dear fairies to pre- 
pare them for the coming of the Elf.” Seizing his pen, 
and supported by his lightness of heart he began: 


FAY BANNING. 


151 


“ El.FI.AND. 

Dear fairy wife and daughter: 

In the starlight, whilst sitting in the portals of the sweet, red 
rose, and whilst all the horns of Elfland are sweetly blowing, I dip 
iny finger tips in a drop of liquid gold and on this rose-leaf, 
scented with a drop extracted from the petal of a lily, I engrave 
my love to you. 

The tinkling of fairy bells is now heard all the stilly night, as 
the fairies ride away on the wings of the wind to warmer climes. 
Look for me on every passing zephyr, for I will soon waft home. 
Hunt for me a harebell in which gathers a tiny dew-drop for a 
mirror, in which to sleep. 

Yours with a fluttering heart, 

Edf AlTvEN. 

P. S. The honey-dew that gathers on the magnolia blossom 
makes a very pleasant nectar. E. A.” 

Now “Elf Allen” was an inveterate smoker; and 
while Elf Allen thought and while Elf Allen wrote, his 
countenance was greatly mollified by the softening in- 
fluence of tobacco. 

Glancing out of the window he beheld Polly Dutton, 
accompanied by another woman, tripping along the road 
as light as feathers, toward the Van Bummel home. 

‘‘ Behold Polly .Dutton ! Blessed belittle Polly Dutton ! 
Yea, thrice blessed be the little Polly Dutton ! ” were the 
Colonel’s ejaculations. 

On they came and up to the front door, where he heard 
them bruising their knuckles on the solid oak panels. 
Presently he heard the familiar little trot of Aunt Katrina 
in the lower hall, and heard her usher them in. She 
seated them in the prim little parlor, patting up the cush- 
ions, picking up the feathers, and pushing back the 
chairs. 

Thinks the Colonel, “ I’ll write another letter, then go 
down and cultivate the acquaintance of Polly Dutton.” 

Polly had something to impart to aunt Katrina, and 
had brought with her Darlisky Drake, a soul from Pump- 


152 


FAY BANNING. 


kin Ridge, who could speak a little Dutch, to act as in- 
terpreter. 

After the usual comments on the weather, Polly said : 
“Now, Darlisky, I want you should tell aunt Katrina 
the scandal, from beginning to end, leaving nothing out, 
but puttin’ plenty in. Give them all the good rakin’ 
that they deserve, an’ bear down especially hard on her 
present boarder. Just let her know what kind of a chap 
she’s harborin’.’’ 

“I’ll say all I know how, Polly,’’ said Darlisky, be- 
ginning. 

Thus did Darlisky Drake relate the late scandal, in 
which innocent Fay Banning figured as the lowest of the 
low, taking pains to add the trimmings that Polly wished 
annexed. 

Aunt Katrina was standing when Darlisky began her 
story, but soon sank down into a chair, overcome with the 
startling intelligence. She rocked back and forth, shak- 
ing her head, and exclaiming “ So ! ” at the end of nearly 
every sentence which Darlisky built. 

Polly lent such apothegms as, “ Aint it awful, aunt 
Katrina!’’ — “Who’d ever think it of her!’’ — “Pillar 
in the church, an’ all that ! ’’ — “They’d orter be treated 
to a coat of tar an’ feathers, then singed!’’ — “After- 
wards rode on a rail ! ’ ’ 

When Darlisky had finished her story, aunt Katrina 
started forth in quest of old Hans. She soon returned, 
with the good man trotting at her heels. Then followed 
another recital by Darlisky, at the end of which old 
Hans’ “ Dutch was up.’’ Peter was next summoned, and 
listened to some fiery Dutch eloquence from his master. 
Then old Hans began ascending the stairs, followed by 
Peter. 

They were going to evict their lodger. 


/ 


FAY BANNING. 


153 


The Colonel was so startled when Peter and his master 
burst into the room, a torrent of Tow Dutch pouring from 
the mouth of old Hans, that in springing up from his 
chair he knocked over a lamp at his elbow, which fell to 
the floor with a crash, thus increasing the vehemence of 
the old Dutchman. 

The Colonel turned white, and with a tremulous voice 
asked for the cause of the sudden onset, when old Hans 
advanced and began tweaking his nose, while Peter gave 
him a kick in the rear. Feeling himself grossly insulted, 
the Colonel began plying his fists, but the cane of old 
Hans, and the stout blows from the chubby fists of Peter, 
proved too much for him, and the battle terminated in 
the utter rout of the Colonel. He dashed out of the room 
and down the stairs, with an occasional help from Peter’s 
heavy boot. Aunt Katrina stood at the foot of the stairs 
ready with the broom, and fresh in the fight, plied it 
with clever skill as he passed by. The gauntlet was 
only completed when he passed Polly Dutton, who ex- 
claimed, “ I do love to make folks happy ! ” 

They all pursued the Colonel to the gate. When he 
reached the road, bareheaded and comfortless, he divested 
himself of his coat and prepared to make a last stand. 

‘ ‘ I beg you will grant a truce long enough for me to 
collect my baggage ! ” he exclaimed, in the utmost per- 
turbation of mind. 

“No quarter here ! “ said Polly. 

Old Hans had hastily gathered all his belongings to- 
gether, following on after the procession with them, and 
now threw them over the fence into the road, saying ; 
“ Petter you go on, you tarn schnake ! “ 

“ I wish to say a word to the horde before departing,” 
said the Colonel, gathering up his clothes and stuffing 
them into his satchel. “ It’s a dreadful trial to a man’s 
feelings — to be ejected without a trial, or even one word 


154 


FAY BANNING. 


of warning. If 3^on will read the Constitution, you igno- 
rant brutes, you will find that no person can be convicted 
of a crime or misdemeanor, without a trial ; and that trial, 
in all cases except impeachment, shall be by jury. Polly, 
my love, I shall have to attribute the cause of all this 
disturbance to your great rhetorical flourish to aunt 
Katrina, for which, some day, 3^011 will atone. Polly, 
you should have wedded when you were of a marriageable 
age, and your maternal cares would have occupied the 
spare time you have ‘to make people happy.’ When 
Mrs. Tewksburry departs this mortal life, and you are 
not too wizened and dried up, I may o *rer you my hand 
in marriage, and thus save 3^ou from an old maid’s 
grave 1 ’ ’ 

“ Set the dog on him ! ” screamed Polly. 

“ I am not afraid of the dog,” said he, taking a re- 
volver from his satchel, whereupon the forces hastily 
retreated to the house, leaving the field to the Colonel. 

He adjusted his disordered garments, picked up his 
satchel, and departed for the village in no very amiable 
frame of mind. 


V 


CHAPTER XIV. 


“ God of heaven what a sight !” screamed Celia as she 
bounded to the table and extinguished the light. Ma- 
dame Julia was too terrified now to move or even speak. 

The men were standing ready to depart when they, too, 
vSaw the face. Both were terribly frightened and cowered 
back into a corner. 

Celia glided from the table to the door, cautiously 
bolted it, then groped her way back in the darkness to 
where her mother was sitting trembling with fright. 

“Oh, that face ! Those gleaming eyes 1 That blood 
will haunt me to the grave !“ shuddered Madame Julia. 

“ Courage, mother ! Such things must come of such 
deeds as we would do. I know that face, and his heart’s 
blood would be a pleasant nectar for me now !’’ 

“I do so lack courage. I* thought I had enough to 
bear me out in this, but it fails me when it comes to 
the test. What a night — and it is just begun ! Tet 
them have their will and I’ll go my way and beg in 
peace ! That face 1 That face ! 

“ Foolish woman ! I take an oath I’ll foil Arthur 
Ellsmere in finding Fay Banning though I pay for it with 
the hangman’s noose !” And the darkness hid the mur- 
derous look in her eyes. 

“Heavens, woman 1 but you’ve got grit 1’’ said Jim 
Barger as he and Nat Beggs now came stealing up to 
them. 

“But, oh, that face ! Who in heaven’s name was it? 
Or was it from the grave?” said Madame Julia, burying 
her face in Celia’s lap. 

“ It was Ellsmere’s face,” answered Celia. I suppose 
he received a cut somewhere on the head in his squabble 

155 


156 


FAY BANNING. 


with this unknown person. It may be that this unknown 
wight was one of his own party and mistook him in the 
darkness for one of you.” 

” That is it ! That isit !” wailed Madame Julia, “ and 
they have the box 1” 

” So be it. With only one person in your way, it is an 
easy step to fortune,” said Celia grimly. 

“Wonder what’s become of that ole nigger ? Bet he 
legged ’er fer home when he got loose !” joined Nat 
Beggs. 

“You tarnal fool, who cares what become of that ole 
nigger 1” snarled Barger. “It’s that other chap that 
concerns us now. Likely he’ll prowl around till we go 
out then sail in again, blast his picter. Us cooped up in 
here now he’s got the dead wood on us ; however, we’ll 
have ter be skinnin’ out fore long.” 

“ Oh don’t leave us 1” pleaded Madame Julia. “ There 
isn’t another soul on the plantation and he may murder 
us ! He may be in the house now lying in wait for us 1” 

“I fastened all the doors before I came out,” said 
Celia. “Once in the house, and I do not fear him. 
You accompany us to the house then go your way until 
we signal for you again. It will be better for you to go 
soon ; if he contemplates any mischief, time will give him 
an opportunity to do it. Take my advice — the sooner 
you leave the better.” 

“ Yer right agin, woman, right agin! I never seen 
anybody that could see a pint as quick as you do. True 
’nufif. Time will give him chance to surround us an’ 
cut off retreat. Come on now, we’ll take you an’ the old 
woman to the house an’ then cut sticks fer the woods. 
Git yer hummin’ birds all ready in case of attack.” 

Celia unbolted the door and they sallied forth. The 
hurried march to the house was uneventful. At the door 
the disgruntled heroes disappeared into the night. 


FAY BANNING. 


157 


Once inside and the door securely fastened, Madame 
Julia drew a heavy breath of relief. 

That night both women occupied the same chamber. 
They retired late, but no sleep visited Madame Julia dur- 
ing that long night. Celia soon fell asleep and slept 
heavily until morning. 

At daybreak Madame Julia rose unrefreshed, and stood 
at her window musing sorrowfully over her troubles. 
The magnificent home that she had so long considered 
her own, had so dearly loved, was, for the future likely 
to be but a dream. 

“If it can be saved, Celia will save it. Oh, if I only 
possessed but half her cunning and bravery I could al- 
most match the evil one himself” — (but not Isabelle Le- 
land, Madame Julia). “ I do wonder where that mis- 
creant husband of mine is. Dead, I trust. Still, he 
might be a good tool now.” 

Thus mused she on for some time until Celia rose. 
When they went down they found that Joe and Tom had 
arrived from the Ormsby and were busily engaged doing 
their morning work. 

Madame Julia had had quite enough of the intoxicant 
— solitude — and sent Tom, post haste, after he had finished 
his work, back to the Ormsby for some of the slaves. 

Upon his arrival and his errand dispatched, Hawley 
burst into a perfect torrent of oaths. ‘ ‘ Why, that wo- 
mern is insane ! — devlish ! What’ll be her next orders I 
wonder. Uikely to dissect some of the niggers to find 
some missin’ thread or spoons. Dead up a cart full of 
’em an’ tote ’em back. Put in ole Sal ! She’s sulkin’ an’ 
won’t pick cotton this mornin.’ I’ve a good will to ham- 
mer the de’il out of her before she goes. Git around 
here a lot of you ole rattle-bones,” he said; calling to a 
group whose wool was white, and who sat singing to a 
pack of squalling pickaninies. 


158 


FAY BANNING. 


Every occupant of the cart was awarded a charge and 
after they were seated thickly in, Hawley said : “ Now, 
Tom, drive like the very de’il an’ give them a fearful 
bumpin’ up;” 

Tom was a furious driver, and on receiving these or- 
ders, he mounted the mule, giving a wild scream, at the 
same time hitting the animal a stinging blow around the 
ears with the lash, and was soon lost from sight in the 
cloud of dust that followed the cart. 

Arriving home he found he had only lost out two in 
making the trip. 

When Madame Julia discovered the help that had been 
sent back, she scolded a perfect storm, and threatened to 
discharge Hawley as soon as he came home. 

Expecting the whole country-side would soon be agog 
over the news of the night’s calamities, Celia and her 
mother felt a deep sense of mingled shame and guilt and 
remained closely indoors during the following day to 
avoid meeting or seeing any one. 

In the afternoon a wandering Jew peddler, with a heavy 
pack, made his appearance at the house, and loudly rang 
the door-bell. 

Old Sally had been instated waiting-maid, etc., much 
to her displeasure, until the cotton was harvested. She 
hobbled to the door, opened it part way and gruffly asked 
what was wanted. 

“Is de Missis at home ?” 

“No,” gruffly. 

The Jew is not accustomed at finding the mistress at 
home upon the first inquiry. 

“I hafe somedings to sell, let me in,” he said, push- 
ing on the door. 

Old SMly braced herself against the door, exclaiming : 
” Clar out you ole vagabone or I’ll set the dogs on yo’ !” 


FAY BANNING. 


159 


The door soon yielded to the Jew’s superior strength ; 
old Sally, seeing that she could not prevent his entrance, 
sprang back, letting it open with a bang, while the Jew 
fell in prone upon the floor. 

“ Missis ! Missis !” screamed Sally. “O Tor’, Missis! 
Come heah quick I” 

Both women now appeared in the- hall. 

“ Kgscoose me ladies, boot I fell,” .said the Jew, 
struggling to his feet. 

‘‘So I perceive,” said Celia tartly. 

‘‘Don’t you want to buy somedings to day — neetles, 
pins, buttons, shoe-sthrings, balmorals — ” 

‘‘ We want none of your notions. Be off with j^ou 1” 
sharply commanded Madame Julia. 

‘‘Tace, corsets, thimbles, thread — ” 

‘‘Sally, loosen the dogs I” commanded Madame Julia. 

The Jew threw down his pack and proceeded to open 
it. Jfe was a powerfully built man, with a dark com- 
plexion and a glossy black beard, typical of the descend- 
ants of Abraham. 

Not daunted by her threat in his determination to sell 
them something, Madame Julia thought the quickest 
way to get rid of him was to purchase a few articles, so 
she told him he might take his pack into the sitting- 
room. 

‘‘I thought you vanted somedings,”. he said, gather- 
ing it up and following her into the room. While she 
looked over the contents of his pack, Celia sat by the 
window working the family crest on some fine damask 
napkins. While the Jew seemed wholly absorbed in his 
sales he was furtively watching her looks and move- 
ments. 

Sometimes she drew her needle through with a quick 
jerk, then again with a calm, regular intentness, some- 
times dropping her hands upon her lap and allowing her 


160 


FAY banning. 


thoughtful, troubled gaze to wander with unseeing glance 
over the familiar objects on the lawn. 

As the Jew was tying up his pack to go, he said, 
“ Don’t you vant to sell dis line home, Missis ?” 

Both women cast a quick, curious glance at him. 
Celia was the first to answer. 

‘ Who wants to buy one?” she mechanically asked. 

” I buy it.” 

‘‘You buy it! What have you to buy with ?” she 
said, curling her lip scornfully. 

” Money ! Money I I got lutz um money ! See !” 
he said, taking a roll of bills as large around as his arm 
out of a small valise. 

The women looked curiously at each other for a mo- 
ment, then Madame Julia said : ” Y-e-s, I would sell if I 
could do it right away — to day, and receive the money.” 

” How much land you own ?” he asked. 

‘‘About eight hundred acres ; it is in two plantations 
with as fine buildings as there are anywhere in Kentucky. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Yesh, dis ist a fine puilding, no mistake,” said the 
Jew, peering curiousW about him. ‘‘How many slafes 
you hafe ?” 

‘‘ Fifty or sixty ; I don’t know the number exactly.” 

‘‘ Well, how much you take for de whole puishness ?” 

‘‘ I value it at one hundred thirty thousand dollars.” 

‘‘One hunerd tirty tousan’, one hunerd tirty tousan’. 
I gife you one hunerd tousan’, to-night, right in your 
fist if you take it an’ not one chent more, ’ ’ he said, quickly 
turning on his heel and looking at Celia whose counte- 
nance had wholly changed during the conversation. Her 
face was now lit up and her eyes fairl}^ dancing. 

Again the women interchanged glances, and Celia, giv- 
ing her mother a knowing little nod, said, ‘‘Take it, 
mother I” 

‘‘Well, to sell quickly. I’ll do it. But what a sacrifice I” 


1?AY BANNING. 


161 


“ Let me shee said the Jew fumbling around in his 
pockets and in his valise. “ I liaf to go to Frankfort, 
sure as you lif, pefore I can do it. It will be a week, 
mam, pefore I can git pack.” 

Ah, how their countenances changed ! 

. “ I do not think the offer will be open that long. If 
you want it you will have to close the bargain to-night ; 
and I’ll go to the village with you and make out the 
papers,” said Madame Julia, contracting her brows. 

“Well, I shee,” he said, starting out. ”Maype I 
come pack yet to night. Goot day. Missis.” 

“Good day.” 

And he was gone. 

Fie said to himself as he passed out of the gate, ‘ ‘Aha, 
they would sell at a great sacrifice to-night ! They are 
dubious about a sale a. week later. Miss Celia looks 
sorely troubled — Mrs. Tewksburry woe-begone I They 
didn’t get the box ! ! ! But who did ? Could it be their 
plot was listened to by still another party ? Any one 
who knew Fay Banning besides the cut-throats who were 
foiled last night would peril their lives to get hold of a 
paper that would restore her rights. By jove ; I believe 
the will, that is if the box contained the will, is some- 
where safe 1’^ 

And Arthur KUsmere went home with renewed hope. 
The whole affair was yet a secret only known to Arthur, 
uncle Mose and aunt Dinah — the latter promising not to 
divulge what little she knew concerning it — and a few 
others who were not likely to promulgate it very widely. 

Mrs. KUsmere had been for many 3^ears an invalid, and 
all her earthly hopes were centered in Arthur, her only 
child. Her husband was one of the leading state poli- 
ticians — at present a state senator — and consequently his 
time was largely engrossed in politics. Thus, being de- 
prived of her husband’s society much of the time, she 


162 


FAY BANNING. 


loved Arthur with an exclusiveness that increased with 
her failing health. Never was there a more devoted 
son to a mother than Arthur Ellsmere. He idolized 
her. A very common remark of his was : ‘ ‘ How hand- 
some you are, mother, I am so proud of you 1” 

He was like his mother, with the same oval face, 
yet there was a difference in the character of their 
faces ; where hers showed refinement and melancholy, 
his exhibited strength and cheerfulness. 

Owing to her fast failing health he now remained 
quite closely at home, cheering her drooping spirits, 
brightening her pathway to the end of Time — not far 
distant for her. 

She deeply sympathized with him in his misfortune. 
Did she know he was involved in any trouble with the 
Bargers which would be sure tg jeopardzie his life, she 
would be nearly frantic. So it must be kept from her. 
He would gladly have gone to his father for advice and 
help, but he was now in Frankfort on business pertaining 
to a coming political campaign, and would be absent 
several weeks. 

Before reaching home he turned into a lane that led 
back through his father’s plantation. He walked briskly 
along in the gathering gloom until he reached a barn 
which was stored with hemp at the end of the lane. On 
entering, he found uncle Mose anxiously awaiting his 
coming. He had purchased his outfit at a country store, 
greatly exciting the clerk’s curiosity, and in the barn 
uncle Mose had assisted him in dressing and masking to 
personate the wandering Jew. 

“Ah, .uncle Mose,” said Arthur, as he hastily pro- 
ceeded to change his attire, “it worked like a charm ! I 
went into the wolf’s jaws and out again while the wolf 
slept,” 


FAY banning. 


163 


“Good bor ! Mars Arthur, good bor I” ejaculated 
uncle Mose as he began assisting him to arrange his 
toilet. 

Arthur related all that had occurred to convince him 
that the will was not, nor had it been in their possession. 

They placed the pack in a box, hid it in the hemp, 
then started for home. It was ouite dark when Arthur 
reached the house. 

“The Gables,” the name of the home of the Bllsmeres, 
was a large edifice, delightfully irregular, of dark red 
sandstone, with its walls closely covered with the cling- 
ing ivy, clipped away from the doors and windows, and 
its roof of many gables, significant of the reign of Queen 
Anne, over-shadowed by branches of gigantic elms, 
quite concealed the building from the road. 

When Arthur entered the house the hall lamps were 
brightly burning, but an unusual stillness prevailed. 

He listened a moment, then exclaimed as he ran qtiietly 
up the broad winding stairs, “ Mother is ill !” When he 
reached her door he paused and listened ; hearing a low 
moan, he cautiously entered the room. She was lying 
on an upholstered divan with her face toward the wall 
near the bright fire that had been kindled to correct the 
dampness of the room. Beside a table, reading, was 
seated his cousin, Bertha Clay, of Frankfort, who was 
visiting at The Gables. 

She motioned Arthur to a chair near her side. 

“Is mother very ill?” he anxiously asked as he sat 
down. 

“ N-o ; I think not — not alarmingly so,” answered his 
cousin, closing her book and laying it on the table. 

Mrs. Ellsmere now turned her pale, sweet face toward 
them, and seeing Arthur, she smiled and said: “Ah, 
dear boy, I was not a little alarmed about you — you were 
gone so long,” 


164 


FAY BANNING. 


He rose, walked over and kissed her, saying, “ I pur- 
posed to have been back sooner \;hen I went away, dear 
mother. I should have told you not to become anxious 
if I were a little belated. Are you feeling much worse ?” 

“ My limb pains me more than usual. You are tired 
and hungry. Bertha, touch the bell, please. I will have 
j’^our supper sent to your room. I ordered a fire built 
there this evening, the atmosphere seems so damp.” 

The waiting-maid now made her appearance. 

“Tell Dilly to carry a pot of tea and some cold game 
and whatever is necessary for Mr. Arthur’s refreshment 
up to his room. Go now, Arthur, for you must be nearly 
famished.” 

“I’ll come in again, mother, before I retire,” he said, 
as he was. leaving the room. 

When he entered his own richly furnished room, he 
drew an easy chair up before the crackling blaze in the 
grate,' and sat down reclining with his head thrown back, 
placing his feet upon the fire irons, and awaited the com- 
ing of Dill3^ 

She soon came in bearing a silver tra)", and the tinkle 
of the glass and china, the refreshing odor of the tea, the 
cold game and the pastry, greatly increased his already 
keen appetite. After partaking of the bountiful repast 
he sat down in his padded chair again, and was soon 
completely lost in thought. 

“I will be very much more vigilant of your doings, 
Celia Tewksburr}", than ever before. I will work untir- 
ingly to get that box which I’m sure you didn’t get. I 
may yet see those hawks leave their ill-gotten nest" — if 
Vay Banning be yet alive.” 

Thus mused he on until eleven muffled strokes of the 
hammer from the clock on the mantel aroused him from 
his reverie. He started nervously up as he thought of 
his neglect to his mother, and scarcely had the reverbera- 


FAY BANNIiYG. 


165 


tion of the clock’s hammer died away when a light rap 
on the door announced an arrival. 

He had not reached the door when he heard Bertha’s 
voice saying as she passed on, “Good night, Arthur. 
Your mother is soundly sleeping, now, and you had better 
not disturb her. She will call us if she needs anything.” 

He sought his bed and soon fell into a deep slumber, 
dreaming that a poor hunted creature was somew^here hid- 
den in the woods with the coveted box in her possession, 
and was wanting to deliver it to him, but was afraid to 
meet him lest he identify her and expose her whereabouts 
to her pursuers. 

When he awoke the sunlight was streaming into his 
room through the windows and the birds in the trees were 
warbling glad songs of praise to the beautiful morning. 

He pushed back the rich tapestry that curtained his 
bed, and the first object that met his gaze was the half- 
size portrait, in crayon, of Fay Banning, that hung on 
the opposite wall. It was a strong face, yet shone with 
a child-like innocence — pure and beautiful. 

His eyes moistened with tears as he thought of the 
great wrong inflicted upon her, and thought, too, how 
sad the memories of home must be to her. 

His last night’s dream now flashed across his mind 
with such vividness that it seemed a strange reality. 

He rose, and hastily dressing, hurried to his mother’s 
room. Finding her still sleeping he went down stairs 
and joined his cousin at the breakfast table. 

In vain did he try to be entertaining during the meal. 
He would be conversant for a little time, when, unawares, 
his mind would wander back to his dream again and he 
would findhimself wondering, conjecturing, and speculat- 
ing over it. He was bound by the fetters of a dream ! 

His cousin, noticing his struggle for mastery of thought, 
relieved him by excusing herself and leaving the room as 


166 


FAY BANNING. 


soon as she finished breakfast. She had hardly closed 
the door after her when he rose from the table, saying, 
“ How absurd to be carried away by a dream !” 

He went to his mother’s room again, whither Bertha 
had gone, and found her sitting up and feeling much 
better than on the previous evening. After conversing 
with them awhile he arose and left the house determined 
to hunt in the woods for the strange person whom he had 
seen in his dream, and keep a vigilant watch over the 
goings out and comings in of the Tewksburrys, to whom 
we will now return in our story. 

Dame Rumor told of the sudden and mysterious dis- 
appearance of Bird Barger and hinted at foul play. 

The slaves on the Tewksburry plantation were again 
hearing and seeing ghosts. 

Did Sally slept in the kitchen loft and guarded the 
dainties from the gluttonous blacks. One night after re- 
tiring, she heard the rattle of a pan below, and smiled 
with ghoulish glee to think she had a chance at last of 
breaking a head with the large stone that she kept under 
the bed for that purpose. She stealthily rose, procured 
her stone, and taking some matches, crept carefully over 
to the hole in the floor where the ladder stood. She 
would suddenly scratch a match and while the intruder 
stood dazed with the sudden appearance of the light, she 
would hurl the stone. 

The first part of her plan worked as she had desired — 
but ah, the last 1 She put her head down through the 
opening, then ignited a match. - As it sputtered and 
flickered she peered at — ? — giving a wild scream she fell 
through the hole, striking the floor below with a heavy 
thud. 

The piercing scream was loudly wafted on the night 
air to the ears of old Hetty, an aged n egress, now sleep- 
ing in the loft, and who had only reposed there since 
her return from the Ormsby. 


FAY BANNING. 


167 


She sprang out of bed and screamed while hastily 
throwing on her clothing : “ Hey yo’ Sally ! Whar on 
de libin’ arf am yo’ and what am de mattah, chile ?” 

Hearing no response she lighted a candle, descended 
the ladder, and found Sally, a wreck of blood and bones, 
lying at the foot. “ Sally, am yo’ dead I Am yo’ dead, 
Sally ! If yo’ be — speak!'' she cried, holding the candle 
over her and peering into her face. 

The closed eyes were symptoms of death. 

She procured a basin of water and began to bathe her 
face and blow in it, when presently Sally opened her eyes 
and gazed about her with a wild stare, saying : “ O Lor’, 
yes, I’m worse’ n dead ! My shouldah is smashed — deed 
it is Hetty ! 

Hetty raised her up and her arm fell limp a her side. 

“I b’leive your shouldah is broke ; ’pon my soul I 
do, Sally 1 

“ O, Lor’ I’ll die ! I kaint live no longer — ’deed I 
kaint sufferin’ like dis air I” 

“O, don’t talk so, Sally. Long’s thar’s breff, thar’s 
hopes, an’ thar’s plenty of that. Did yo’ eat onions fo’ 
supper; Sally?” 

”0, Lor’,” she groaned, ” I dunno what I eat I” 

” I guess I’d bettah call Missis an’ mebby she’ll sen’ 
off for de doctah,” said Hetty. 

‘‘Oh, no she won’t. She wants me to die !” wailed 
Sally. 

‘‘Well, I wouldn’t die den. Anyhow I’ll call her an’ 
see if she won’t sen.’” 

Hetty started to call her mistress when Sally called 
her back, saying: ‘‘Don’t leave me, Hetty, don’t I 
beg yo’ don’t leave me ’lone ; call some one to stay 
with me while yo’ gone. I haint zactly seen the debil 
as I knows on, but I have seen one of his angels an’ I 
seen it tomight, too, an’ itskairt me into dis heah fall.” 


168 


FAY BANNING. 


“Der hain’t an udder nigger near,” returned Hetty, 
” an’ I’llliaf to go. I won’t be gone only a minit. Lor’ 
I’m feared to go out if you have seen a spirit. But I’ll 
haf to.” 

And she ventured forth. Hurrying to the back door 
she gave it a bang at the same time uttering a shrill 
scream that made the welkin ring. 

Madame Julia was a light sleeper, and the alarm 
brought her out of bed standing. She flew into the hall 
and did not stop until she reached Celia’s bed-side. 

“Celia;” she cried, “get up, quick 1 Some one is 
breaking down the door !” 

Celia sprang out of bed and taking her revolver from 
under her pillow, they made their way down the stairs, 
Celia in the van. When they reached the door, Celia 
screwed up her courage, once more, then asked ‘ ‘ Who is 
there?” 

“ Hetty,” was the answer. “ Sally’s fell down de lad- 
der an’ broke her shouldah suah !” 

“ A pity it is that it wasn’t her neck 1” said Madame 
Julia. “ Lunging around in the dark ! Why doesn’t she 
go to bed and stay there and not be prowling around in 
the night?” 

Celia undid the door, and throwing shawls around their 
shoulders, the women hastened to the kitchen. When 
they entered Sally was groaning piteously. 

“ If this isn’t a pretty plight to be in !” scolded Ma- 
dame Julia. “ Why don’t you stay in bed when you re- 
tire, and not get up and go prowling around in the night 
falling and frightening people out of their wits like this!” 

Sally was now taken very sick at the stomach. 

While Madame Julia was scolding Sally, Celia and old 
Hetty had raised her up, and the case diagnosticated, 
Celia pronounced it “broken shoulder.” 


FAY BANNING. 


1G9 


“I must git somethin’ to settle her stomick right 
away,” said old Hett)^ “ kemme see. I done gib her 
some — some — some — oh I declar’ I kaint think of the 
name Anyway it’s what is used to make biskit hump 
— soda 1 that ar isit !” 

‘‘ She needs something stronger than soda to set her 
aright. I’ll send Tom for that old Doctor Bixby at the 
grocery,” said Celia, going out. 

” What were you up for in the dark ?” sharply ques- 
tioned Madame Julia. 

‘‘I heard de pans a rattlin’,” groaned Sally, an’ I 
though some one was stealin’ the victuals — O, my shoul- 
dah 1 — an’ I got up still like — my shouldah I — an’ crep 
over — O, deah ! — to that ar hole in the floor, an’ struck a 
match an’ peeked down — my shouldah ! my shouldah ! 
— an’ thar stood a gose, missis, lookin’ right up at me, 
with a loaf of bread right under her arm ! ! ! O what 
pain ! — an’ it skairt me so I fell right down.” 

” A ghost with a loaf of bread under her arm ! Sally, 
what do you mean !” she said, with a terrified look. 

” Jes what I tell you. It was a she gose an’ — Oh, how 
I suffer! — she had a loaf of bread. ’Deed, if you had 
seen that wild look in her eyes, you’d a tumbled, too.” 

“Was it a woman or a man, Sally, that you saw?” 
queried Madame Julia, much interested. 

“ It w^as neither. Missis. I knows it war a gose ! But 
it war a she one, dough, kase it wore a dress — or what 
had been one, I reckon — O, my shoulder 1 A raggeder 
critter yo’ never seen 1” 

Celia de.spatched Tom for the doctor then returning to 
the kitchen door, called her mother, and they returned 
to the house leaving poor old Sally in the care of the 
blacks 

When they re-entered the house and Madame Julia had 
related the cause of old Sally’s fall — many were the specu- 


170 


FAY BANNING. 


lations made ou whom the ghost might be. It might 
have been the strange person who took the box from 
Arthur Ellsmere, or, perchance, a lunatic judging from 
Sally’s description of the eyes, or, more probably, Bird 
Barger^ the runaway wife ! 

They resolved to signal Jim Barger the next day and 
have him scour the woods back of the plantation for the 
intruder. 

Arthur Ellsmere, still haunted by the mysterious 
dream, continued his search in the forest for the wood- 
nymph. 

The day on which the Tewksburrys purposed to signal 
for Jim Barger, as Arthur and uncle Mose were walking 
along the banks of a brook in the woods back of the 
Tewksburry plantation, they discovered freshly made 
tracks in the mud — small, and evidently made by a w^o- 
man’s shoes. They followed it quite a distance, then 
lost it. The person seemed to be traveling in the course 
of the brook, so they continued in that direction. The 
brook at last fell over a rock, plunging down many feet 
below, and went raving along among broken rocks and 
trunks of fallen trees. 

They were now^ near the fields ; and the vault, the re- 
fuge of the ancestral Bannings, was below their very feet. 
Arthur had not visited it for many years and now deter- 
mined to explore the favorite haunt of troubled spirits. 

They had some difficulty in finding their way down 
through fallen trees, bushes, and rocks to the obscure en- 
trance which was shaded by overhanging trees, casting a 
gloom about it, even in the daytime. 

Mose found a piece of pitch-pine with which to make 
a torch, and lighting it they entered the low, narrow, 
winding passage that led into the vault. The light 
burned brightly, proving the atmosphere to be quite 
free from noxious gases, 


FAY BANNING. 


171 


The floor, walls and arched ceiling of the passage 
were composed of regular, flat stones, laid together with 
some accuracy, and here and there inscribed with letters 
and hieroglyphics as if they had once upon a time served 
as memoranda. To the ceiling hung innumerable bats 
which flew away on the appearance of the light. 

They soon came to a flight of steep stone steps, at the 
top of which was a ponderous stone door, that was fit- 
ted, though irregularly, to serve as the entrance of 
the vaulted room. Just as they began to ascend the 
steps, their light, that had begun to burn dimly, now 
went entirely out, leaving them standing in impenetrable 
darkness. 

“Good Lawdl” exclaimed uncle Mose in a terrified 
voice, “we are lost now, sartin’ sure, an’ never more’ll 
be heard tell on till Ga’bel blows his trumpet !’’ 

“ You remain here,’’ said Arthur, feeling in his pocket 
for matches, “and I’ll take a look inside and see how 
it looks by match-light — I’ve seen it every other way.’’ 
By this time he had reached the top step. Giving the 
door a push it yielded and swung back on its rude iron 
hinges with a dismal noise resembling a groan. He 
stepped cautiously inside, and by the fitful light of a 
match was able to survey the entire small, low room. 
Not ten feet away he beheld a frightful object standing 
wdth a revolver cocked and leveled at his head. He in- 
stantly extinguished the flame and changed his position 
so as not to be in range of the weapon. 

‘*A woman,’’ he said to himself, “and mad as a 
March hare !“ 

He smiled as he thought of his dream ! but alas ! — 
how different was the creature standing before him with 
the haggard face, the disheveled hair, the tattered gown, 
the menacing attitude, glaring at him with the fierce- 
ness of a tigress, from the one he had seen in his vision! 


FAY BANNING. 


172 


“I thought to find a sweet, shrinking creature, that 
we read of in romance,” he said to himself, “but this 
is anything but charming, standing here in the bowels 
of the earth, smelling the muzzle of a revolver in the 
hands of a maniac. Woman, who are you, and why 
are you in this tomb, hiding from the world?” he 
asked in a subdued voice, at the same time shifting his 
position to avoid the possibility of a shot. He was not 
an instant too soon ; a flash from the revolver, the 
click of a bullet as it struck the opposite w^all and re- 
bounded, satisfied him that it was necessary to keep her 
in ignorance as to his exact position, and useless to 
make further inquiry. Changing his tactics he dropped 
upon his hands and knees and crept noiselessly toward 
the spot w'here he saw her standing. Stopping near 
the spot where he thought her to be, he listened and’ 

heard her take a step cautiously toward the door. He 
rose up carefully, sprang upon her, wrenched the revol- 
ver out of her hand before she had time to use it, and 
grasping her by the wrists, drew her screaming toward 
the door. 

“Light a match!” he called to Mose, when he had 
reached the place where he supposed the door to be. 

“O, Lawd 1 ” answered uncle Mose in a frightened 
voice outside; “Is yo’ killed? Is 3-0’ shot, Mars Ar- 
thur? Is yo’ stabbed an’ robbed? Is 3^0’ — ” 

“Never mind, Mose — strike a light — quick! lam 

realizing my dream — quick !” 

“ O, who are you?” cried the struggling creature — 
“ and what are you going to do with me ?” 

“Hain’t no matches,” yelled Uncle Mose. What have- 
you kotched? 

“ A tartar, I guess,” answered Arthur, who had found 
the door and was backing out of it dravdng the strug- 
gling woman along. “Here, Mose, feel in my pockets 


FAY BANNING. 


173 


and find a match and strike it to let me gaze on beauty’s 
field — quick ! Why, my dear creature, I’m not going to 
harm you. Stop kicking ! I am Arthur KUsmere, one 
of the Kentucky Valley boys, my father is a farmer, and 
my mother’s maiden name was Polly Clarissy Patchen, 
and she hailed from York State. What may I call you, 
please? This is quite a wrenching introduction. It 
doesn’t seem like meeting with a stranger, however, for 
I’ve seen you in my dreams. This is quite a romantic 
affair, this meeting of ours — you hiding here in the depths 
and I bringing you out of the darkness into light.” 

Uncle Mose had, after much fumbling in Arthur’s 
pockets, found some matches and lighting one held it 
sputtering and flickering in the woman’s face, who had 
now ceased struggling. 

Arthur started back, exclaiming, ” Bird Barger !” 

“Oh, sir,” pleaded the woman, ” I beg you not to tell 
any one 3"OU have seen me, an’ now that it is you I will 
give you something that I think you would give thour 
sands to git. I’ve wanted to see you this long time but 
was afraid to meet you for fear you would tell where I 
was, an’ then that brutal husband of mine might find me 
and murder me. Maybe you are helpin’ to find me to 
have me took back.” 

“No,” replied Arthur, “I was just strolling about think- 
ing I might find a box which I would like to get, and, 
passing the vault, entered out of mere curiosity, and find- 
ing you here, I determined to find out who you were, and 
knowing the mysterious box to be in the hands of an un- 
know person I thought you might be the one. Am I 
right ?” 

“You are,” she replied. ” But the box is not in the 
vault. I hid it outside lest I be found, and I did not 
want it to fall into their hands again.” 


174 


FAY BANNING. 


“Come then,” said Arthur, let us make haste and 
get out of this tomb where we can get purer air.” 

By the aid of lighted matches they quickly found their 
way out. When they reached the outer world Ar- 
thur related how he had overheard the plot between Celia 
Tewksburry and Jim Barger to get the box and make 
way with Remus, that he had appeared on the scene, cap- 
tured the box, and was just congratulating himself over 
his fortune when he was knocked down and relieved of 
the prize by an unexpected person, and concluded by say- 
ing, “ I believe now that person to have been you, 
Mrs. Barger. Am I right again ?” 

“ Yes,” she replied, “ I was determined they shouldn’t 
get it, an’ I mistook you for one of them in the dark. I 
am sorry it so happened. Did I hurt you much, Mr. 
Ellsmere?” 

“ No, not seriously,” he replied, smiling. “The blow 
you gave me confused my ideas, however, for a short 
time.” 

‘ ‘ I want to run away — away from the Barger gang ; 
but look at my clothes ! I have strung them all to pieces 
running through the woods. I can’t go looking like 
this. O, sir, will you please help me to a decent dud 
that I may get away from them awful people who would 
kill me now if they could find me. Won’t you?” she 
pleaded. 

Arthur was greatly touched by her appeal and forlorn 
condition and promised her aid and protection. She then 
led the way to a clump of bushes in which lay a large 
flat stone. Pointing to it she said : ‘ ‘ Under that you will 
find the box.” 

Arthur removed the stone, and again beheld the coveted 
box. He quickly lifted it from its hiding place and turn- 
ing to Bird, said : “ You shall be richly rewarded for all 
the privations you have suffered in caring for this.” 


^AY BANNING. 


175 


He stood in deep meditation for a. moment, then said : 
“ For the present I will take you home with me.” 

“ Fo’ de IvOrd’s sake !” exclaimed Mose, throwing up 
his hands and opening his mouth and e3^es in amaze- 
ment. “Take ’er home wid yo’ ! W’y, chile alive, it 
ull done skair de wits out of missis to see dat womern 
dressed dat away ! She’ll done go into spasmodic con- 
ventions thinkin’ she has seen de queen ob de witches 
dressed in her rags an’ tags !” — 

‘‘Stop Mose !” said Arthur, glancing compassionately 
at the poor creature who hung her head with shame, the 
tears beginning to course their way down her cheeks at 
the thought of her abjectedness. 

“ Mr. Kllsmere, I had rather not go. Please loan me 
a little mone}" an’ I’ll pay you back some time. I’m 
ashamed ter meet your parents after the life I’ve led,” 
she said, hiding her face in her ragged apron and sobbing 
bitterly 

Uncle Mose, seeing the pain he had caused her, began 
a series of very humble apologies, but only made matters 
worse. 

” Come with me, Bird,” said Arthur with such a de- 
gree of decision in his tone that she dared not disobey. 

When they came to the hemp-barn in which Arthur had 
dressed to personate the Jew, he bade Bird enter it, say- 
ing : ‘‘I will send my cousin out to dress and disguise 
you that you may not be recognized by the prattling 
blacks who would be sure to tell the Tewksburry slaves. 
Uncle Mose shall stay outside and guard you. Have no 
fear,” he said as he walked away. 

When he related all his adventures to his mother and 
Bertha they expressed great surprise and wept when he 
told the history of Bird Barger. 

‘‘ But,” said his mother, when he had declared his in- 
tention of bringing her into the house to remain for a 


176 


P^AY BANNING. 


time, “ may not this be a contrived plan on the part of 
the Bargers to get her into the house for some evil pur- 
pose? She may be a precursor of impending mischief.” 

Arthur assured her that it could not be — giving proof 
of her innocence. 

Bertha gladly consented to provide an outfit of her own 
clothes for the poor creature, and as she was crossing the 
lawn Arthur called to her from his chamber window, 
whither he had gone to open the box, that ‘ ‘ she would 
not find Mrs. Barger in a state of decomposition though 
he had brought her forth from the earth, but she would 
find her in a woeful state of dishabille.” 

Laughingly, Bertha tripped away to act the part of the 
good Samaritan. 

We will not detail the opening of the box. Suffice to 
to say it contained a will and in a fair state of preserva- 
tion. It read as follows : 

1 

“I, Robt. Ir. Banniug, of the County of G , and State of 

Kentucky, being of sound mind and memory, do make, publish 
and declare this to be my last will and testament, to wit : 

“First. — All my just debts and funeral expenses to be fully paid. 

“Second. — I give and. bequeath what is known as the Ormsby 
plantation and all personal property thereon to my wife, Julia R. 
Banning, to have to hold to her as long as she remains my widow ; 
otherwise it shall fall to my beloved daughter and only heir. Fay 
E. Banning. 

“Third.— I give, devise and bequeath all the rest, residue and re- 
mainder of my estate, both real and personal, (including {|800,000 
in the Frankfort Savings Bank) to my daughter. Fay E. Banu’ug, 
and to her heirs and assigns for ever. 

Fourth. — I nominate and appoint Hugh R. Lock wood, Attorney- 
at-Law, of the City of Frankfort, to be the executor of this my last 
will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills by me made. 

“In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal this 
15th day of November, A. D., 18 — . 

“ Robert L Banning, [seat]. 

“ Signed, sealed, published and declared as and foi his last will 
and testament, by the above named testator, in our presence, who 


FAY BANNING. 


177 


have, at his request, and in his presence, and in the presence of 
each other, signed our names as witnesses thereto.” 

“ Chauncy a. Hai.1,.” 

“ Isaac Ormsby.” 

It was indeed a moment of jubilee for Arthur when he 
had finished reading the will. 

“ I will hunt the world over for Faj^ Banning,” he ex- 
claimed, ‘ ‘ and if she lives see her get her inheritance ! 

‘ ‘ The world may say I did it all for hopes and greed 
of money Did I know she was married I would search 
in every quarter of the globe for her, hoping to retrieve 
myself in her esteem 

” But all this bank account — this added wealth of hers 
is news to me. What has ever kept them from drawing 
this money from the bank, since they believe another will 
in existence ? Verily ‘there is a God in Israel !’ But 
hold ! it may be that they have. If they have not, it is 
only greed to get the whole that keeps them here. I’ll 
see to this business at once.” 

He ordered his horse, and hastily dressing, was soon 
galloping on his way to Frankfort. Arriving there late 
in the night, he anxiously awaited the morning. 

At a very early hour he entered the office of Tockw^ood 
& Son, and delivered the will into the hands of the sur- 
prised attorneys. It was found, on investigation, that the 
money was yet safely in the bank. 

That day two women, closely veiled, entered the bank 
and attempted to withdraw a large deposit of money, but 
were quietly informed that they would be obliged to 
prove the demise of Fay Banning, the only apparent heir. 

Baffled again. 

Unfortunate Mrs. Tewksburry ! No widow’s dower 
known in the statutes of Kentucky at that time. 

Only one ray of hope left — the removal of Fay Banning 
from her path. 


178 


FAY BANNING. 


When Arthur returned home he found Bird Barger 
attired in a neat gown — seemingly anew creature. 

Pleasant surroundings and culture would make a new 
and brighter page in her dark history. Mrs. Kllsmere 
and Bertha took a deep interest in her, and found her an 
apt and ready pupil in whatever they chose to teach her. 
Mrs. Ellsmere reolved to permit the unfortunate creature 
to share her home for a time, hoping to exercise a lasting 
influence over her — thus doing the will of the heavenly 
Father who has provided chaste companions and social 
influences for his children who have strayed and are to 
be brought back by associating together the good and the 
bad in one great family, making them all brothers and 
sisters, inasmuch as they are all children of one Father. 

Arthur searched a newspaper record and had adver- 
tisements inserted in all the leading and many local 
papers in the country, for Fay Banning, the rightful heir 
to the Banning estate. His father was coming home for 
a brief stay, thus affording him an opportunity to insti- 
tute another search for her. 

He found Bird Barger to be quite clever at imitating, 
and now she was speedily learning the art of a seamstress, 
expecting to apply to the Tewksburrys for employment, 
and, if successful, to learn the whereabouts of Fay if 
known to them. 


CHAPTER XV. 


It was the afternoon of the eighth day of October, 
eighteen hundred and fifty-nine. The weather being 
pleasant, Arthur took his gun and walked away to the 
woods to hunt for pheasants. Wandering on and on — 
and finding no game, he resolved to retrace his way. Jt 
was quite late in the afiernoon, when he found himself in 
a dense wood several miles from home, with the prospect 
of being caught in a rain-storm. The wind had suddenly 
arisen in the northwest, driving up masses of dark clouds, 
and in a few moments the rain began falling. It would 
soon be dark, and knowing the road that led past his 
home to be not far away, he turned toward the river. 
The darkness gathered and the rain fell heavily. He 
hurried along and soon emerged into the highwa}', and 
looking down the road in the opposite direction from his 
home, he saw, not quite a mile away, The Bear, the name 
of the home of a character whom we will soon introduce 
to the reader. 

His first impulse was to seek shelter there from the 
storm ; then remembering his mother’s anxiety for him 
at such times, he changed his mind and proceeded to- 
ward home.^ He had taken only a few steps when the 
sharp crack of a rifle rang out on the ev^ening air, and 
he fell heavily forward. 

Old Windom Chet worth, the lonely proprietor of The 
Bear, who lived a recluse, was an enigma to his neigh- 
bors. Little was known of his early life, having emi- 
grated from some place remote enough from the sunny 
banks of the far-famed Kentucky to leave his history be- 

179 


180 


FAY BANNING. 


hind him. For thirty years he had occupied The Bear 
with no companions save a nephew (who had recently 
come to cheer up his old age, and who was to inherit his 
vast wealth) ; and the old faniil}" servants, together with 
his dogs and horses. 

In person he was as regularly formed and nobly pro- 
portioned as though moulded for some cunning statuary. 
He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six 
feet five inches in circumference. His head was a perfect 
sphere — a stupendous affair — and seemed to have been 
set on the top of his backbone just between the shoulders. 
There was no symmetr}^ of features — the face being mere- 
ly a gob of fat. The great, glassy-white eyes were only 
revealed when he slowly winked — like eggs in a soap- 
tub, now sinking and now rising. His legs, though 
short, were exceeding sturdy, and in the laborious task 
of supporting his weight seemed capable. His usual 
habit was a dark green cloth coat, crimson vest, black 
breeches, long white stockings fastened at the knees, and 
Morocco slippers with silver buttons. 

In character he was domineering and testy — though at 
times he would soften and allows the fretwork around the 
corners of his mouth, which resembled not a little the 
wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog, to relax, when 
at such times he would be extremely sweet and gracious: 
so he was equally loved and feared b}^ his servants. 

Since his handsome but dissipated nephew, George 
Chetworth, had entered his home. Dame Rumor caught 
up a thread of gossip, and hinted of an early and un- 
happy marriage and a separation which had driven him 
away from the scenes of his youth. Taking up his abode 
in the quiet valley of the Kentucky, he lived only known 
to a few selected friends among whom was Arthur Ells- 
mere. Never but once had a white woman ventured to 
cross his threshold, and she (one of the “poor whites” 


FAY BANNING. 


181 


of the neighborhood) received a sound beating at his 
hands, for which she received a thousand dollars for the 
infinite satisfaction it afforded him. In truth he was a 
veritable woman-hater. His good quality was his un- 
limited generosity. No beggar asked alms at his door 
and went away empty-handed. 

Early in the evening The Bear was shut up closely to 
keep out any possible draught of damp air and the sound 
of the rain as it beat pitilessly against the windows. 

Old Windom in his dressing-gown sat in his easy chair 
before a warm, bright fire, his feet placed upon a stool, 
his eyes closed in meditation — his favorite pastime — in 
his comfortable bed chamber. In his soft cushioned 
chair he was wont to sit and absolutely shut his eyes for 
full two hours at a time that he might not be disturbed 
by external objects — and fought battles and won con- 
quests. At such times the commotion of his mind was 
evinced by alarming guttural sounds which his nephew 
declared was merely the noise of the departing breath of 
his antagonist. 

Old Windom, as I said, sat in his easy chair with his 
feet resting on a stool before the fire, his head thrown 
back, his eyes shut, sipping his punch, while in his 
imagination he was warring with some of his neighbors. 
He was aroused from his reverie by a sudden gust of 
wind that shook the house from rafters to foundation. 

“Zounds, what a hurricane! What a night this 
would be for a mortal to be abroad 1“ he said, starting 
up. 

He touched the bell on the table at his elbow, and im- 
mediately the call was answered by his old devoted ser- 
vant, Cuff. 

“ Cuff, you may bring in my pipes, some hot water, 
lemons, sugar, wine, etc., and I’ll make a little fresh 
drink, then go to bed and sleep while the elements roar 
and rave without.” 


182 


FAY BANNING. 


“Yes, Marse,” said Cuff, bowing and departing. 

He soon returned, and placing the bottles, glasses, 
pipes, etc., on the table, retired to a corner of the room 
and watched his master preparing his evening toddy. 

After old Windom had sipped and quaffed he turned to 
Cuff saying, “You may open my bed and pat it up a 
little and I’ll soon be dozing.” 

“Yes, Marse,” said Cuff turning down the covers of 
the bed and beginning the patting up process, when they 
were both suddenly startled by a loud ringing of the hall 
dodf bell. 

“ Who the d — 1 can be abroad in such a night as this !” 
exclaimed old Windom, throwing down his pipe and 
turning savagely on Cuff, who, pillow in hand, stood 
staring with astonishment. 

“ ’Deed, I can’t injecture, sah, unless it’s ole Nickhis- 
self out on mischief.” 

“ Fool 1 — Drop that pillow and go down and see w^ho 
the foul fiend dares to visit old Windom Chetworth at this 
unseasonable hour.” 

At this moment the ringing was repeated louder than 
before. 

‘ ‘ Hear that again ?’ ’ thundered old Windom. ‘ ‘ Take 
my cane and bruise the insolent wretch’s head. O, to 
be as supple as I was once. I'd answer that call in person.” 

Cuff took his master’s cane, opened the door leading 
into the hall, and was heard descending the stairs. 

“ Come back, Cuff,'' roared the old man, when he had 
reached the lower hall. 

Cuff quickly obeyed. 

The bell now rang ^'nearer — clearer — deadlier than 
before. ’ ’ 

“I wish to show you howto dislodge the enemy in 
true military style,” said the old man, taking the cane 
from Cuff. “ Take the cudgel in your hand — so — see? 


FAY BANNING. 


183 


and cautiously open the door — so — and peer out through 
the slight aperture — so — to ascertain the enemy’s strength. 
After reconnoitering open wide the door, suddenly throw- 
ing the light of the hall lamps full upon the enemy’s 
front, thus dazing him, and sallying forth with a mighty 
yell, bear down upon him, flanking his right wing — so. 
Do you see?” giving cuff a sharp blow over the head to 
perfect the drill. 

” Berry well, Marse, berry well 1” he answered, jump- 
ing around with the pain, and rubbing his head. 

” Here,' take the cane and march away in the true style 
of a cavalier.” 

Cuff quickly and gladly marched away for obvious 
reasons. 

” It’s growing cold fast. Ugh !” said old Windom re- 
turning to his fireside and standing with his back to the 
blaze. ” But who in blazes can be ringing like that ! 
Don’t people know me and fear me too much to dare to 
do a trick like that ? Some hoodlum -drunk likely. If 
Cuff carries out my orders, and gets a fair crack at the 
poor devil, he may make a sore head for him. A broken 
head is what he deserves, tearing at people’s doors in that 
style.” 

He poured out another glass of his royal punch and be- 
gan sipping it. 

In a few moments Cuff re-appeared, and thru.sting his 
head in at the portals, looked at his master with a curious 
gaze. 

“You idiot! To dare to stand and look at me like 
that in at a door without a word ! Oh, for something 
hard and bruising to break your woolly pate 1” howled 
old Windom. 

Cuff quickly closed the door again, and in his fit of 
discomposure, lightly rapped, which enraged old Windom 
the more. 


184 


FAY BANNING. 


“Come inside, sir,” he roared, “ and close that door I” 
Cuff tremblingly entered and said: “ I begs pardon, 
Marse, fo’ de way I inducted myself, but de sprise I hab 
fo’ you made me act awkud like an’ — ” 

“ What the deil is to pay !” said the old fellow, as he 
fell into his chair, upsetting a bowl of punch that stood 
on the corner of the table. 

“ Lawd ; but Ise feared to tell you !” .said Cuff, whose 
breath came in great pants. 

You villian ! You knave ! Why don’t tell me who 
rung that bell !” — hurling a glass at his head. 

“ Please, Marse, sir, it’s a — it’s a — ” 

“ A what ?” — with a deafening yell. 

“ A woman an’ — ” •' 

“ A woman !” roared the mountain of flesh, jumping 
up. “Who? Where?” 

“ Lord A’mighty only knows who, but she — ” 

The door now burst open and into the room sprang 
Fern Iceland, her face pale as death, her eyes gleaming 
like fire. Running up and confronting old Windom she 
cried: “ You old wretch ! to be parleying and keeping 
me waiting like this when a dying man and a woman in 
a deadly faint are at your gate suffering for — 

A woman ! A woman ! A WOMAN !” was the cry 
that went up from old Windom’ s lips as he fell as if to 
rise no more — upsetting the little table with all the pipes, 
bottles, glasses, lighted caudle, jug of punch, and jug of 
hot water upon the floor in one confused mass. 

Cuff flew to his master’s assistance, wdio was rolling on 
the floor and yelling at the top of his voice for “help,” 
while Fern, after giving him a spiteful kick, ran out of 
the room and in the hall ran right into the arms of George 
Chetworth who had heard the uproar in his uncle’s room, 
and was hurrying to learn the cause of the tumult. 


FAY BANNING. 


185 


“ What the deil is going on ?” he exclaimed, turning 
her face toward a light and closely scanning her features. 
“Jehu, what a bewitching burglar !“ 

‘ ‘ I am no burglar, sir — free me and I will explain 
what has brought me here !“ 

He quickly released her, and she, after staggering back 
against the wall from utter exhaustion, told her story. 

“ A lady friend and I started from Frankfort in a close 
carriage to visit the country beyond here, and owing to 
the storm the driver was urging the horses along at a 
very rapid trot, when, only a short distance from here, 
they suddenly stopped, snorting and pawing in a fright- 
ful manner. In vain did the driver urge them on. He 
could not leave them to go forward and learn the cause 
of their fright, so the only alternative remaining was to 
turn about and go back, or for us to get out and hold the 
horses while he could learn what had alarmed them. We 
concluded to hold the horses. When we got out they 
seemed unmanageable. My friend, possessed of great 
courage, preferred braving the danger ahead rather than 
trying to manage the horses, which were now madly 
rearing and pawing. Borrowing the driver’s revolver 
and taking one of the front lanterns, she started bravely 
ahead, while I followed closely behind. She had only 
gone a short distance when she suddenly stopped, ex- 
claiming, “ merciful heavens !“ I looked and beheld, ly- 
ing in the road, a man, his face downward and covered 
with blood. She gave me the light, while she examined 
to see if he was dead. Opening his vest, she placed her 
hand on his heart and found that it was still faintly beat- 
ing. He had not been lying there long for the ugly 
wound on his head was still bleeding. She lifted up his 
head and looked into his face, and with a wild cry fell 
forward — and, oh, sir, I fear she is dead ! The driver 
tied the horses to a tree and we managed to get them 


FAY BANNING. 


ISG 

both into the carriage, and they are now at the gate, 
and — ’ ’ 

He waited to hear no more, but hastened down the 
stairs, loudly calling for the servants. At the bottom he 
was met by at least half a dozen, who followed him as he 
ran out of the hall door and along the walk to the gate. 

Fern followed slowly down the stairs and on reaching 
the bottom step, sat down, her trembling limbs refusing 
to carry her farther. 

Soon The Bear was in a great state of commotion. 
Servants ran wildly about, running against each other, 
stumbling and falling over objects, and loudly calling for 
this thing and that while old Windom thundered above in 
the chamber. 

The wounded man and the fainting girl were brought 
into the house to receive such care as tender hands could 
bestow until the arrival of a physician. 

Fay was carried into a large room and laid on a lounge. 
Fern followed into the room and assisted a kind old 
“ auntie” to apply her restoratives. 

“ Do you think she is dead ?” sobbed Fern, as she bent 
over the unconscious girl. 

“’Deed, honey, I don’t think she is. They. tell me 
she didn’t git any fall nor struck with anything. I think 
it is only a faint which she’ll come out of d’rectly. Folks 
don’t often die of scares.” 

Fay now began to show signs of consciousness. 

“She’ll soon be all right, honey. See — now — she’s 
opening her eyes !” said the old woman, bathing her 
forehead with camphor. 

Fern knelt beside her and kissed her saying : “Oh, my 
darling ! my darling I my darling ! the good Ford has 
spared you to me !” 

Fay opened her eyes and faintly asked, “Where is he?” 

“ Oh, he' s all right,” replied Fern soothingly. 


FAY BANNING. 


187 


Fay turned her head and gazed about the room with a 
bewildered stare, murmuring, “ Was it a dream ?” then 
closed her eyes as if to shut out external objects while she 
tried to recall the circumstances that had brought her 
there. 

Fern quietly placed a chair close beside the lounge and 
sat down. She wondered who the wounded man might 
be — if he died without telling how he was hurt, might 
they not be convicted of the crime ? — Awful thought. 

She started up, determined to see if he was yet dead, 
and try to learn more about him. Leaving Fay in the 
care of the old auntie, she quietly left the room. Just 
outside the door she met young Chetworth. “ What is 
the condition of the lady ?” he quickly asked. 

‘ ‘ Better, ’ ’ she replied through her tears. ‘ ‘ But how 
about the — ” here she broke down and sobbed piteously. 

“If you mean young EUsmere, the man whom you 
found lying in the road,” he quickly replied, taking her 
hand, “ I think he may recover. He has been shot but 
the wound is only a scalp wound, and I think he is 
only stunned. The doctor will soon arrive, then we will 
better know his condition.” 

“Young EUsmere,” she repeated, withdrawing her 
hand from his and starting back while the color mounted 
her cheeks. “ I must go back to my friend.” 

And she left him standing in the hall, wondering what 
young EUsmere could be to her. 

When she re-entered the room. Fay seemed to be pon- 
dering, her eyes still closed. 

The old auntie who was watching Fay, now rose, say- 
ing she would leave the room for a short time, and 
desired Fern to take her place until she returned. 

‘ ‘ Fern sat down in deep meditation. Presently she 
said : “No wonder she fainted, meeting her lover in such 
a plight. Maybe this is EUsmere’s own home. Great 


183 


FAY BANNING. 


heavens ! Wonder if it is 1” She began to survey the 
room. It was large, oak-panelled, with a dark green 
carpet on the floor, and rich lace curtains at the windows. 
The furniture was old fashioned and seemed to belong to 
a past century. Presently a little black boy softly en- 
tered the room and proceeded to kindle a fire on the 
hearth, while Fern continued her examination. Over the 
mantel-piece hung the portrait of old Windom Chetworth 
— large and life-like. 

“ Jeminy 1 if there isn’t the profile of that old monster 
whom I kicked ! Wonder if it can be old EUsmere ! How 
can I ever apologize for rushing into his chamber in the 
manner I did. I won’t — for I was not accountable at the 
time — under the circumstances. I don’t hear the old 
porker any more; he must have retired. Wonder if the 
floors are safe,” she said, looking up. “I wouldn’t be 
surprised to see him lunging through at any moment. 
Sambo” — aloud and turning to the boy — ” Who is your 
master and where does he sleep ?” 

The boy looked up at her in surprise and said ‘ ‘ If 
yo’ mean me — that ar ain’t my name.” 

” What is your name ?” 

“William Henry George Augustus. ” 

Fern smiled and said, “ Well, William Henry George 
Augustus, what is your master’s name?” 

Grinning and displaying all of his ivory, he answered, 
“ Dey don’t call me all dat ar at once !” 

“ How much of it then at once ?” 

“Bill.” 

“Bill, is that fat man your master?” 

“He ar.” 

“ What is his name?” 

“ Windy Chester—” 

Before he finished the name. Fern covered her face with 
her hands and laughed so loud that Fay opened her eyes 
and looked curiously about her. 


FAY BANNING. 


189 


Bill finished kindling the fire, and thinking he was the 
cause of the ill -suppressed merriment, stole sheepishly 
from the room. 

“ Fern, where are we,” said Fay, now wholly conscious. 

“In a house,” was the laconic reply. 

“ In whose house ?” 

“ Windy Chester — ” and bursting into a ringing laugh 
again, said, “ the remainder, I’m pleased to say, I don’t 
know.” 

“ How do you know that is the name?” with a faint 
smile. 

“ One of the servants told me.” 

“ But, Fern, is he — he — ” closing her eyes and shud- 
dering. 

“ Do you mean the man we — ” whispered Fern, bend- 
ing over her. 

“ Yes is — he — dead ?” faltered Fay. 

“ No, dear, he is better, and is thought not to be dan- 
gerously wounded.” 

Fay clasped her hands as if in prayer, and said “Thank 
God !” 

Her face lit up with a smile, and and raising her blue 
eyes which met the honest violet orbs of Fern, said : 

“ I am quite sure I know where we are. Fern.” 

“ I am quite sure I know, too,” roguishly replied Fern. 
“ ’Tis my Dutch Uncle’s home, and I had the infinite 
pleasure of meeting the old Belzebub, who, when stand- 
ing, has the appearance of a robustious beer barrel.” 

“It is Windoni Chetworth’s home. But, my dear 
child, how did it happen that we got in ? The date of 
our entrance should be chronicled, as, no doubt, we are 
the first white women to pass his portals.” 

“ He stubbornly resisted, but I struck down the guard, 
scaled the breastworks, mounted the steep, stormed 
the heights, passed the inner guard, and ‘ bearded the 


190 


FAV BANNiNCi. 


lion in his den.’ Plainly speaking, I labored at the 
door with a servant for admittance until I saw that was 
useless, and wdien he attempted to close the door and bar 
me out, I sprang in past him, snatched a cane out of his 
hand and gave him a good sound drubbing for his inso- 
lence. He ran up stairs and I thought I would reach the 
fountain head somewhere by following him, so up I goes 
after him. The darkey, in his fright, violated the rules 
and entered the presence of the High Wack-a- Whack 
without the proper salute. Then began a series of les- 
sons — the master, the while, bellowing like a bovine and 
lo ! the servant bounced to go through certain prelimin- 
aries again. I could wait no longer, but hopped right into 
his august presence. He fell from the shock. 'A IVoman ! 
A WOMAN ! A WOMAN !’ were the last words of Win- 
dom. I kicked him, turned and walked out as iff didn’t 
care a — hem ! for anybody, and in the hall I met — ” 

“Fern Teland !’’ exclaimed Fay trying to rise. 

— “ a handsome young man — ran right into his arms. 
He held me there a few moments for a burglar until I ex- 
plained matters; and I waited just as long as I dare be- 
fore explaining’’ — archly — “ when he let me go and im- 
mediately set to work to care for the wounded,” said Fern 
assisting her to rise. 

“ Fern, you don’t know that old man ! If he were to 
meet you again he would not forbear using his cudgel 
freely. For years he has lived here shut away from the 
w'orld, and iiever suffers a woman to enter his presence, 
the cause of which I never knew. Does he know we are 
here now?” Fay asked, greatly excited. 

“ I don’t know and I don’t care, tra, la la, la la,” etc., 
sang the giddy sprite, waltzing lightly over the floor. 

“Be still. Fern,” pleaded Fay. “ Come here and sit 
down again. I wish to tell you something — please do.” 


I^AY BANNING. 


101 


“Wonder if old Windom ever treads a measure. If 
he would dance it would reduce his fat — I’ll teach him a 
few reels before I depart, ’ ’ said Fern as she sat down be- 
side Fay again. 

‘ ‘ Fern do you know, that man whom w^e found is Ar- 
thur Ellsmere,” said Fay, the tears glistening on the long 
silken lashes which shaded the downcast ey^s. 

“So I have learned. But the handsome young man 
thinks he is not dangerously injured.” 

“What handsome young man?” asked Fay, quickly- 
looking up. 

” Oh, one who seems to be chief engineer here ! He 
resembles Clyde a little — only Clyde is far bonnier.” 

Fay dropped her eyes again and for a time was absorbed 
in deep thought. Presently she asked : 

‘ ‘ What became of our carriage ?’ ’ 

“It was at the gate the last I knew anything about it. 
Maybe that old Cerberus has gone out and chawed it up 
in his fury.” 

” I wish to get away from here without being recog- 
nized, but do not want to leave until I know — until — I 
do wonder if it was an accident. Oh, if he dies — ” 

Again the eyes moistened with tears. * 

“Oh, he’ll not die ; mean people never do,” said Fern 
with contempt. 

“Fern !” — chidingly. 

“But I’ll do picket duty as long as you wish to re- 
main and keep your cognomen a mystery. You must 
feign sickness — lie down, I hear some one coming,” she 
said, springing up and running to the door. “Groan 
once in a while.” 

Fay having no time to expostulate on the wrong in 
practicing the deception, reluctantly obeyed. 


192 


FAY BANNING. 


Fern half expected to meet ‘ ‘ the handsome young 
man” again and seized with a sudden fit of vanity began 
to smooth back her sunny hair that had fallen over her 
shoulders, making her look all the more bewitching, and 
furbishing her muddy garments, ending with cutting a 
pigeon-wing — all done in less time than it could be told. 

A thunderous rap on the door changed her suspicions 
and attitude. 

She started back, glanced at Fay who was endeavoring 
to attain the position of a person in a faint, and loudly 
whispered: “ Old man himself ! Pulldown your dress, 
will you, and pull that quilt up over 3^011 !” 

The sudden change in her expectations caused her face 
to pale and for a moment all her courage left her. What 
must be done ? She knew she must shield Fay from all 
inquisitors. Collecting her thoughts and rallying her 
usual pluck, she quickly opened the door part way and 
stood face to face with — old Windom Chetworth — dark 
and glowering. 

He had come to balance accounts — to settle old scores 
with her. She fully comprehended this by his menacing 
countenance, and said to herself : 

” Now, Fern, here comes a great goggle-eyed monster 
to devour 3"ou — to eat 3^ou all up! He hates all women 
alike with a bitter hatred, for some unkind cut — the Lord 
knows what — that some fair goddess has played on him, 
and will not scruple to beat you with that cudgel he 
carries — so terrible is his wrath 1 Think of the brave 
deeds that have been done by some who labored against 
fearful odds — how the crafty Ulysses dug out the eye of 
the huge Polyphemus with a stake!* — how little wee David 
slew great big Goliah ! Now, Fern, don’t be a sweet 
little flower, be a naught3" thorn and tear his flesh !” 

All this passed through her mind in one moment, and 
in the next her plan was formed : she would not be the 


FAY BANNING. 


193 


aggressor this time, but would act stubbornly on the 
defensive. 

For a moment the two champions stood glaring at each 
other, motionless — old Windom awed at the coolness and 
daring of the handsome creature before him, who, in his 
own house — and a stranger — could look unflinchingly 
down into the depths of his heart — Fern catching the 
scent of carnage, and fast summoning courage. 

After much hemming and hawing, he, at length, found 
voice to speak. 

‘ ‘ I have learned what led you to enter my house in the 
headlong manner in which you did, and while your hasty 
entrance was, in a measure, justifiable, your conduct while 
in rny ow7i private room^ when I was at your mercy ^ beii}g 
overcome with your boldness and presumptions insole^ice — is 
— unpa'^donable'" said Windom Chetworth compressing 
his lips and nodding his head back and forth with the 
majesty of an oriental potentate to add emphasis to his 
edict, “therefore I command you, being the power and 
sole authority here, to vacate my house and premises 
without further dela}^; I am not totally without human- 
ity, for not a mile from my gate resides Gangley Gummidge 
— a poor devil whom I took pity on, who drifted herefrom 
Arkansaw, and was without money, friends, and ambi- 
tion, and gave him a home where you and your friend 
may pass the night. I have already dispatched a servant 
there with bedding and food, leaving nothing undone for 
your comfort. Those people, I am informed, are cleanly 
and respectable, and you will farewell enough — humph ! 
better \h 2 i\\ you deserve, you little wax-faced imp, — “ 

“ Ha 1 Fay, he calls me wax-work. Do you think he 
may possibly be zealous, or is he only coquetting?” 
said Fern with a ringing laugh, throwing kisses at Win- 
dom, while she turned to Fay as if expecting an 
answer. ‘ ‘ Oh, dear, I forgot, she is fainting. You see the 


194 


FAY BANNING. 


truth is, Mr. Wiiidom, I have never in all my life heard 
an explicit declaration of love, so please excuse me, sir, 
if I am a little stupid in technical love-making. Hum ! 
ha! I feel—” 

” On the morrow, you monkey,” interrupted Windom, 
his voice pitched an octave higher than before, “ I would 
advise you to make haste and leave Kentucky far behind 
you — ” 

” Dear old Kentucky !” violently sobbed Fern. 

— “and cover well 3"our tracks for — if- — Arthur — Ells- 
mere — dies — yo 2 i — will — answer— for — his — mrirder !' ’ 

Great Heavens 1 1 ! that’s entirely a new phase in this 
melo-drama I” said Fern, trembling with fear at the 
thought that she and Fay Banning might have to answer 
for the murder of Arthur EUsmere I Still she betrayed 
not the slightest degree of emotion. 

Fay could act the fainting scene no longer, but rose 
and tottered toward Fern shaking like an aspen leaf — not 
of fear — but at the thought of being branded — murderess! 
— and, too, of Arthur EUsmere ! She could not reach 
her, her trembling limbs refusing to bear her up, and 
staggered against the wall for support. 

The half-open door shielded her from the stern gaze of 
old Windom, who continued : 

“Arthur EUsmere is a young man of strict integrity, 
one whom I esteem above all earthly friends, and if he 
lives I’ll halt sometime before making George Chet worth, 
the dissipated and degraded wTetch, my sole heir. 

‘ ‘ I am not wholly void of mercy though I hate yonr 
sex with a bitterness that is indescribable, and took an 
oath, when I entered this refuge, never \.o suffer womnn 
to cross my threshold. Now — I believe you innocent of 
any complicity in this sad affair, and will do all I can to 
shield you, providing — you leave my house promising 


FAY BANNING. 


195 


never to return Go,” he said, waving liis hand, “your 
carriage awaits you at the gate.” 

” Mr. Windoin, you enter upon the enconium of your 
compassion. If you possess one spark of mercy, I beseech 
you in heaven’s name, to shelter my friend through the 
night. The excitement has been too much for her and 
she now lies” (a glance at the lounge convinced her 
differently) ” and is too — ” 

” My irrevocable decision is that — you — both — must — 
go !” thundered Windom thumping his cane on the floor. 

“Listen one moment, please,” pleaded Fern. “You 
hate all womankind with a bitter hatred. You would 
sweep them from the face of the earth were it in your 
power. Mr Chetworth do you not remember a mother 
with the sweetest voice you ever heard in all j^our life 
crooning you to sleep in her arms, or soothing your pain 
when you were crying with a hurt toe ; listening with 
tender pity to allay your little infantine troubles ? Beside 
your trundle bed at close of day she taught you to lisp 
your ‘ Now I lay me down to sleep,’ and when you had 
closed your eyes in sleep, she tenderly kissed the little 
tear-stained cheek, whispering softly, ‘God will keep my 
child.’ 

‘ ‘ She watched you with pride as you developed into 
promising manhood, ever ready to hide every fault, and 
gloried in your fame, exulted in your prosperity ; and 
when misfortune overtook you, you were all the dearer 
to her for it. The world might cast you off, she still 
clung to 5^ou. 

“ Then when her eyes grew dim and her hair silvered 
and her voice faltered and she was no longer sprightly 
you worshipped her all the more because of her short time 
to stay. One sad day, the bitterest time in all your life, 
you saw her laid in the tomb — that gentle mother who 
had prayed for you while you wandered wide and were 


196 


FAY BANNING. 


engaged in the active duties of life — no more to waken on 
earth ! Do you not see that sainted mother now in glory, 
as she prayed for you and blessed you through her tears?” 

“Y-e-s,” answered old Windom in a husky voice, 
wiping the tears from his eyes. 

“And was not that angel mother a woman f then 
she added to herself : “ I’ve got him now!” 

“Yes; and I’ve always hated her for being one” — 
with a touch of grim humor. 

“No use appealing to him — can’t reach a tender spot. 
I’m outwitted I” exclaimed Fern as she turned to Fay. 
“Ourjigisup. II nous faut allez.” 

“ Tres bein,” replied Fay with pallid face. “Je suit 
pret.” 

“ Come, come 1” thundered Windom. “ Make haste.” 

George Chetworth now made his appearance and enter- 
ing the room said : “I hasten to tell you that the con- 
dition of the wounded man is much improved. The 
doctor has arrived and examined his wound and thinks 
he will recover within a short time as he has only received 
a scalp wound. It was a narrow escape and who the 
would-be murderer can be is a deeply shrouded mystery. 
Poor fellow I he is fast regaining consciousness and may 
soon be able to tell his story. He is talking now 
and seems greatly troubled in his delirium about a girl,” 
he said looking up, beholding Fay vis-a-vis for the first 
time. Her face of marble whiteness, bearing a striking 
contrast to the long dark eye-lashes, the arched eyebrows, 
and silken ringlets, held him steadfastly gazing for a mo- 
ment. 

“The goddess of beauty,” he said to himself as he 
forced himself to look away. Then turning to leave the 
room, said : “I deeply regret that it is my uncle’s un- 
changeable will that 5 ^ou should leave to-night. I’ll see 
you at the gate again.” 


FAY BANNING. 


197 


“Oh, you will, will you, you puppy?” snarled old 
Windoni, thumping his cane impatiently as young Chet- 
worth passed by him and walked away. 

The kind old nurse who had cared for Fay now re- 
entered the room and assisted the girls to don. their 
muddy and undried wraps. 

“ Hurr}^ up !” urged Windom from without the door. 

“I’ll soon be ready, ‘ Bluebeard’ !” replied Fern. 

George Chetworth met them at the gate, and deeply 
bemoaned the state of affairs. He assured them they 
would be well treated at the Gummidge cottage. Then 
assisting them into the carriage, they drove away. 

The hospitality of the Gummidges was boundless, and 
the remainder of the night was passed without any farther 
events interesting to the reader. 

Fay decided to hasten back to Frankfort in the morning 
in order to conceal her identity and there remain until 
she knew what Arthur’s fate would be. 

In the morning George Chetworth reported the much 
improved condition of the suffering man. 

Their carriage was brought to the door at an early 
hour, and after adieus to the host and hostess, and George 
Chetworth, who promised to inform them at regular 
intervals of Arthur’s condition, until his recovery was 
assured, they drove away. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


It was late in the night when Fay and Fern reached 
Frankfort. They stopped at an inn where they had 
lodged after their arrival in Frankfort from the north. 

When the carriage drew up before the door, the driver, 
numb with cold, called out, “ Hullo, in thar 1” 

The door quickly opened and the night-watch, a stout 
man with a bull-neck, a wooden leg, and his hair cropped 
close all around his head, came stumping forth with a 
lantern muttering at his mid-night arousal. Holding 
the lantern high above his head to see who the belated 
travelers were, he exclaimed as he recognized the driver: 
“ My lungs and lights, if ’taint Jim, Crow, the black var- 
mint ! W’y Jim, old shiny, where on earth have you 
been ?” 

“Oh, out in de country eatin’ peaches,” was the reply. 

“ Who ye got in yer carriage, Jim ?” 

^‘Couple o’ gals ; twin sisters I reckon by de looks.” 

The driver, jumping down from his seat, opened the 
carriage door and assisted the girls out upon the walk. 

Both staggered when they alighted, from the long dis- 
use of their cramped limbs. 

“I’ll be dashed to pieces if they haint both drunker’ n 
lords !” exclaimed the man with the wooden leg as Fern 
staggered against him. 

“ No ; not drunk,” said Fay. “ It is lack of exercise 
and a long ride that renders our limbs nearly useless.” 

“ Give me another wee sip and dig in your leg,” said 
Fern, her teeth chattering, catching hold of the wooden- 
legged man for support. 

“ Please show us into the house,” chattered Fay. 

198 


FAY BANNING. 


199 


‘ ‘ Come right along, ’ ’ said the man with the wooden 
leg stumping along toward the door, with Fern tightly 
grasping his arm. “ I’ll come right out agin, Jim,” he 
said, calling back to the driver, ” as soon as I get the 
cook routed to get these gals suthin’ to eat; Reckon yer 
grub struck by this time, aint ye?” he continued, address- 
ing Fay. 

” Nearly famished 1” was the reply. 

” Now what do ye want for supper ?” said the wooden- 
legged man, as he wheeled them into the sitting-room, 
where a fire was yet glowing on the hearth, extending its 
warm invitation to the chilled travellers. ‘‘You will 
have to make due allowances for the lateness, you of 
course can’t expect a clam-bake or any sich luxury. Sing 
out what you want,” he said, impatiently, whirling on 
his wooden leg. 

Fay began : ‘‘ Sandwiches, coffee — ” 

— ‘‘ Rousing hot, too ; warm biscuits, honey, cake, 
fruit — oranges, bannanas and figs,” interrupted Fern. 

‘‘Shall I bring you some wine ?” asked the wooden- 
legged man, starting with the order. 

” No, I think we’ve had enough to-night !” answered 
Fern. 

‘‘Please have it brought in here — the supper,” Fay 
called after him. 

‘‘ Granted,” was the answer. 

“ Peg-leg,” called Fern, ‘‘ bring me some — some — ” 

‘‘Yes” was the answer that came back from the 
distance. 

A pounding was soon heard in a distant part of the 
house as of the beating on a door with a stout stick, 
and a virago’s voice declaring her indisposition to rise. 

‘‘We may have to retire without refreshments,” said 
Fay as the noise increased. 

‘‘If she doesn’t soon bounce out. I’ll reinforce Peg- 
leg,” said Fern. 


200 


FAY BANNING. 


The noise soon ceased. 

“ Peg has won the day, or rather the night,” said Fern, 
seating herself before the fire after removing her wraps. 

The supper soon came — a tempting repast with an 
obsequious mulatto girl in attendance. 

Healthy young human nature must live substantially 
in spite of all its heart-aches. Both girls did justice to 
the sandwiches, the hot coffee and the cold broiled chicken. 
Refreshments over, they soon retired. How glad they 
were to lie down to rest, pull the soft warm blankets 
around their heads and go to sleep — sweet refreshing 
sleep — after their long and tiresome journey. 

Next morning, as soon as they breakfasted, Fay left 
the inn alone and went to the telegraph office, where a 
telegram awaited her. 

Nervously breaking open the seal, she read as follows : 

“ Mr, Ellsmere, much improved.” 

“Geo. Chetworth.” 

She hastened back to the inn, and finding Fern alone 
in the sitting-room, quickly imparted to her the good 
tidings. 

“Perhaps we can soon leave for New Orleans,’’ she 
added. 

“ How long shall we remain here if he continues to im- 
prove?’’ asked Fern. 

“I will receive another telegram to-night. They are 
to come twice daily as long as we remain here. When we 
leave, I am to notify Mr. Chetworth of our departure and 
advise where to send telegrams or letters if I wish to re- 
ceive any more. I was cautious not to tell him any 
points where we might be found beyond Frankfort. I 
will cover well our retreat. Did you tell our names to 
any one while we were gone. Fern ?’’ 

“ Not to a livdng soul.’’ 


FAY BANNING. 


201 


“ I have not registered. Paid our bill in advance and 
told the proprietor we preferred not to register as I did 
when we were here before, which will of course increase 
his curiosity to know who we are. If Arthur Ellsmere is 
still convalescent in the morning, I think we had better 
continue our journey without further delay. 

“A boat leaves here at three o’clock to-morrow after- 
noon for Carrollton, where we can get a steamer at almost 
any time for New Orleans,” said Fay. 

” I wish we might have a place where we could rest 
undisturbed. I would like to get my nerves quieted be- 
fore sallying forth again. The re- action of that bobbery 
out at Windom’s is worse than a run of delirium tremens. 
Every few moments some one stalks into or out of this 
room and bangs that door enough to tear it off its hinges.” 

” I will try to get a suite of rooms while we remain. I 
thought of it when I was coming back. But this inn is 
so small we may not get such an accommodation here. I 
think we might at an inn above here on this same street. 
However, I’ll try here first,” said Fay, going out. 

” Set the man with the wooden leg in motion and he 
will soon clear a room for us,” called Fern after her. 

Fay soon returned. 

“Well, what success ?” asked Fern. 

“ Good. We are to have the private sitting-room over 
this room. Come, let us take possession at once. Oh, 
for one hour of perfect relaxation I” 

And she led the way upstairs. 

Their suite of rooms comprised a small but cosy sitting- 
room and bed-room. 

The furniture was plain, but the chairs and lounges 
easy. 

‘ ‘ Never did I but once before so appreciate rest as now, 
and that was on an occasion strikingly similar to the one 
just experienced. Fugitives from the law !” said Fay 


202 


FAY BANNING. 


sighing, as she sank into a chair after they entered the 
room. “ The shortness of my night’s rest still leaves me 
feeling very giddy ’ ’ 

A few hours rest and I shall be feeling as fresh as a 
chick-a-dee again,” said Fern, throwing herself down 
upon a lounge near the window, where she could look 
out upon the street and watch the people as they came and 
went — some rushing along to their places of business 
while others wandered aimlessly about, playing their part 
on the world’s stage unconscious of their little worth. At 
last the eye lids began to droop, and she soon fell fast 
asleep. 

Fay mused over the strange occurrence that had taken 
place to interrupt her visit to the scenes of her childhood 
days. 

” Who can Arthur be enamored of now ?” she thought. 
” Perhaps he has been jilted by some fair damsel. If so, 
I am almost wicked enough to look upon it as a retribu- 
tion. ‘ What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the 
gander.’ A little heart-ache won’t harm him — just a 
little. It may serve to awaken the memory of one whom 
he cruelly deceived. Ah, how all the old love for him 
comes back again ! It only smoulders for a time, then 
bursts into a burning flame that all but consumes — each 
time repeated it becomes more fervid. Will this aching 
heart be relieved of pain, ere it ceases to beat ? ah, 
never!” 

When Fern awoke, they took a short walk, then spent 
the remainder of the day in seclusion and rest. In the 
evening Fay received another message which declared 
the wounded man to be still improving. In the morning 
came a similar one. 

Fay had gone to look after the baggage, and have 
it re-checked, being obliged to attend to this duty in 
the absence of a servant, wh^n Fern, who was arrang- 


FAY BANNING. 


203 


ing their traveling costumes, was startled by a rap on 
the door. 

A servant announced Mr. George Chetworth, of Bur- 
ford, Kentucky. What could it mean ? Had he come 
to warn them to flee to escape arrest ? Fern reflected 
a moment, then told the servant to show him up. 

George Chetworth made his appearance, smiling and 
bowing in a most gracious manner, his behaviour so un- 
reservedly gushing that Fern received him with marked 
coolness, and hesitated before offering him a chair. 

He was dressed like a prince — ^his moustache curled 
like a Moor’s, his beautiful chestnut hair perfumed and 
oiled, but his breath was fraught with the odor of 
whisky which Fern noticed when he took her hand. 

“ Hump ! Old R3^e is in the air !” she said mentally 
as she seated herself in front of him at a respectful 
distance. 

“ How did you find us ?” she asked, her mind now free 
from excitement, since his bearing betra>^ed no cause for 
alarm. 

“ Ah, I had no clue to you whatever — not even your 
names. The telegrams were sent to ‘Miss Nemo,’ and I 
knew one of you must call at the office to receive it. 
There I found where ‘ Miss Nemo ’ was stopping, and 
came hither at once.” 

” Wonder what his business is ?” thought Fern. “He 
is pretty well ‘ how came your eye out’ to call on ladies.” 

“How did you leave Mr. EUsmere ?” she asked. 

“Better, much better. His friends have taken him 
home. But his heart bleeds for some fair lassie as mine 
does since — ” 

He left the sentence unfinished and gazed at Fern. 

“ What can be the matter of their hearts ?” she mused, 
then asked dryly : “ Since when ?” 

“ Is Miss — your friend, here?” he asked, glancing un- 
easily about the room. 


204 


FAY BANNING. 


“ No,” was the laconic reply. 

” Miss — what may I call you, please?” his voice tremb- 
ling. 

“Miss Flanigan,” was the ready reply. 

“Miss Flanigan,” he began in the most deferential 
manner, “ you will pardon me if I tell you that from the 
moment I encountered you in the hall, fleeing from my 
uncle on that eventful evening — ” 

“Didn’t run from your uncle!” tartly interrupted 
Fern. 

“I have madly loved — ” here his trembling voice 
utterly failed him. 

“ Whew I” said Fern to herself, “upon my soul, if the 
ninny hasn’t come a wooing I But if it is me he is pur- 
suing in his love chase, I can assure him he isn’t fleet 
enough to catch this chicken. 

“Who? Mef she asked, gazing straight into his 
eyes with a quizzical and interested look. 

He recovered his voice, and encouraged by her seem- 
ing desire to help him out of his difficulty, threw himself 
down on his knees before her and seizing one of her hands 
told her of his burning love for her, with all the ardor 
and eloquence of an impassioned lover. Could she but 
give him one ray of hope, he would rise the happiest man 
that ever trod the face of the earth He was sole heir to 
all his uncle’s enormous wealth, which should be hers 
would she but give him her hand. 

“Oh, what shall I do?” thought Fern at the conclu- 
sion of his passionate speech. “ Here I have an offer of 
marriage, and do not possess enough sentiment to respond 
in any becoming way. A plain ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will never 
do to answer such a flowery flourish. Jeminy crickets I 
It will never do to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ first pop, anyway. It 
might check another flow of eloquence.” 


pay bAnninc^. 


205 


Then she added to herself: “Guess I’d better hang 
back awhile. ’Tis such fun ! I’ll give him just enough 
encouragement to oil his tongue.’’ Than she began 
again aloud : “ I do so wonder that a man of your quality, 
so handsome and so rich, should fall in love with such a 
plain creature as I, without name or position, and wi.sh 
to wed her and take her before a haughty and purse- 
proud uncle who might disinherit you for your rash act, 
and turn you out to beg or starve. Ah, Cupid, blind- 
folded god, flitting around on wings of love, I pray you 
withdraw your arrow from my heart and return it to the 
quiver !’’ 

She did not say no, and this was some encouragement. 
“ My little dove,’’ he said, taking the other hand, “ I had 
thought to keep my uncle ignorant of my marriage if 
good fortune only favors me in winning you. To keep 
him hood-winked would be an easy matter as he keeps 
close within his hermitage, rarely communicating with 
the outside world.” 

“ He has it all cut and dried,” thought Fern. 

“ Can I persuade you to become the wife of one who 
would adore the very ground beneath your feet?’’ he 
pleaded. 

“ It would be folly, man, to wed one whom you do not 
know. Only think; three nights ago w^e first met.” 

“I knew you then as well as though I’d seen you all 
my life. To refuse me will wreck my life. Will you be 
my wife, little darling?’’ 

“ But if I say I do not love you, do you still press your 
suit ?” 

‘ ^ A thousand times— You might learn to love me, 
and if not, I would love jyou not one grain less.” 

“ But, sir, think of my misery to live with one whom 
I could not love 1” 


206 


FAY BANNINO. 


“ Merciless little one, did you but know the pain I en- 
dure you would trifle with me no more, but be willing to 
make a little sacrifice, and I am sure you would never 
regret it. Angel, do you not love me not the least atom? 
I await your answer with bated breath,” he said with a 
pleading look, gazing straight into her eyes. 

“Sir,” she replied with a scornful curl of the lip, 

‘ ‘ you will have to bait your breath with something better 
than whisky if you wish to win my love — much more my 
hand 1 You have come here for what purpose the Lord 
knows — pretending to seek my heart, you villain. Now 
begone !” 

Ah, the look that stole o’er George Chetworth’s face as 
he rose and skulked from the room 1 He now fades from 
our narrative. He was soon disinherited by old Vv^in- 
dom, the bulk of his fortune being left to strangers. He 
went forth into the world and disappeared like a rain- 
drop in the mighty ocean. 

When Fay returned she was astonished to hear of 
George Chetworth’s strange visit. 

“ I fear he is a bad, intriguing man,” she said. “He 
is provokingly bold at least. Let us dress for our jour- 
ney and leave the inn at once. He may seek revenge in 
some way and if he returns he will find that he is foiled.” 

They dressed in their traveling suits and after sending 
their trunks away to the landing, left the inn closely 
veiled to avoid any possibility of being recognized, and 
strolled about the city until noon when they dined at a 
restaurant, after which they visited the Capitol and other 
points of interest until time to go to the boat. 

Promptly at three o’clock the Three Bells left the pier 
and steamed down the gentle river in the quiet afternoon 
with our friends seated alone in the prow watching the 
water rippling against the boat as it glided along like a 


^AY BANNING. 


'207 


Sea-bird skimming the main, and recounting their late 
adventure, which must be related in detail to Mr. Iceland 
on their arrival home. 

• At Carrollton the}’' changed boats and boarded a steamer 
bound for New Orleans. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


The City of Vicksburg slid over the water and up to 
the pier, the man at the prow bringing her “to” like 
some sensated thing that knew her duty. A crowd had 
gathered awaiting the arrival of the afternoon steamer 
bringing mail and passengers from the north. The dis- 
embarking of the passengers, together with the unloading 
of the baggage, boxes and mail bags turned the late quiet 
place into bustle and hubbub. 

“By George!” exclaimed Clyde Leslie to his com- 
panion, removing the cigar from his lips, “ I say. Smith, 
who are those ladies that have just stepped upon the 
gang-plank?” 

“ Which ones — those in the blue sailor-suits with the 
gold anchors on their sleeves and the pennons around 
their caps?” asked Smith, knocking the ashes from his 
cigar against the pier-railing. 

“ Yes ; I believe my eyes it is Fern and Miss Fariday?” 

“You are right, old boy ” was the rejoinder. 

Clyde’s handsome face lit up, and elbowing his way 
through the jostling crowd, reached the gang-plank just 
as the girls stepped off. Unnoticed by them in the crowd 
he touched Fay’s arm, exclaiming in his usual buoyant 
manner : “Ah, ha I you thought to steal a march on us 1 
A great surprise this ! Bah I I’ve felt it in my bones 
for a week past that you were coming this evening, and 
came here to surprise 

Both girls were startled — agreeably so — at his sudden 
appearance. He grasped their hands while Fay, first to 
regain her equanimity, replied : “ Ah, indeed, Clyde, we 
will have to admit of receiving the greater surprise. But 

208 


l^AY BANNING. 


209 


this little espionage of yours is hardly fair.* We were 
going to steal upon you all like shadows.” 

‘ ‘Do you always have premonitions of danger?’ ’ laughed 
Fern. 

‘ ‘ Not alwa3^s. Just on rare and awful occasions. But 
no need to ask if you are well and have enjoyed your- 
selves. Your rosy faces tell the story,” said Clyde, look- 
ing into Fay’s face as the sunset struck gold through her 
brown hair under her pretty cap, adding to her dazzling 
beauty. 

” We have had such a delightful trip on the water, and 
our faces would be craven not to show it,” Fay replied, 
turning her face to hide the look of sadness that now 
stole over it. 

“Is papa home yet from Colorado?” Fern anxiously 
asked. 

“Yes; and is feeling real well, too. Cooks nearly as 
rOvSeate as his daughter.” 

” Good !” exclaimed Fern, with a satisfied air. W^n- 
if he is expecting us to-day. When did you see him last, 
Clyde ?” 

“This morning. He seemed to be very anxious about 
you. Said if you didn’t soon arrive he would start to 
look for you.” 

” Let us move on,” said Fay, “lest we attract atten- 
tion by our animated meeting.” 

‘‘Shall I order a carriage ?” asked Clyde. 

“Yes,” replied Fern. ‘‘We will go directly home. 
Papa will send Jake to get our baggage.” 

He hurried away, secured a carriage, and they were 
soon rolling along over the smooth pavement. Fern and 
Clyde gaily chatting, while Fay, silent and thoughtful, 
sat gazing out of the carriage window. Another trial 
awaited her. She must now meet her friends undisguised 
as to her real name, which was extremely embarassing. 


210 


FAY BANNING. 


being aware of the unsavory comments it was sure 
to provoke. Meet her friends undisguised ! — aye, a 
bitter enemy who gloried in the way her history ran, 
basely misusing it to meet her ends ! 

Fay firmly resolved to tell her story to the Irelands, 
close her engagement as governess, leave New Orleans 
and begin life anew under her real name again among 
strangers. 

It was at the close of a warm and beautiful October 
day when the carriage drew up before the Iceland man- 
sion. The sun just at the horizon, Vv^ith golden shuttle, 
was weaving the silvery haze of declining summer with 
yellow light, while a deep hush of nature was spread over 
the peaceful city. 

Out in the middle of the lawn the fountain was at play — 
its sprays of limpid waters reflecting glittering gold and 
silver in the sun’s last rays. From the dark green foli- 
age of the orange trees and the magnolias fell musically 
the» warblings of birds mingled with the happy voices 
and peals of laughter of a group of pickannies rollicking 
on the lawn in the rear of the mansion. 

Fern uttered a little cry of delight as she beheld her 
magnificent home in the south again and under the 
canopy of a soft, fire opal sky. 

Fay also gazed with admiration on the beautiful picture 
now before her, and her heart gave a sudden bound as 
the carriage stopped, not with gladness on arriving at her 
destination, but from the dreaded thought of meeting Isa- 
belle whom she knew to be awaiting her coming with an 
opprobrious tongue sharpened by misconstrued threads 
of her unhappy history as reported by an enemy even 
more bitter than the intriguing Isabelle herself. 

Summoning her courage she determined to meet Miss 
Iceland with a calmness and resolution that characterized 
her kin. 


FAY BANNING. 


211 


Not a person was visible except Princess Henrietta, who 
sat in a great bamboo chair on the piazza fanning herself 
with a great pink fan, the picture of contentment. 

“ lyook at that monkey !” exclaimed Fern. “ Wonder 
where aunt' Isabelle can be that Prince is enjoying so 
much freedom.” 

At the sound of voices the Princess glanced toward the 
carriage, and recognizing her young mistress as the coach- 
man assisted her to alight, gave a glad cry, bounded out 
of the chair, and ran to the gate to meet her. 

P'ay glanced up at Isabelle’s windows and saw a face 
suddenly appear and quickly vanish. 

Fern caught the Princess up in her arms and kissed the 
clean black face, exclaiming ; “You good, bad, naughty, 
dirty, clean, little imp, you, did you get many whippings 
while I was gone ?’ ’ 

” Got a lickin’ eb’ry day, Miss Fuir. Golly dis chile 
is bad !” 

‘‘ Who whipped you ?” laughed Fern. 

” Miss Isahbelle. She most pounden de life out ob me.” 

“Where is she now ; and papa ?” 

“Dunno.” 

“ Where you good while I was North ?” 

“ No ; I’se bad.” 

“Oh, you little knave, what makes you bad?” said 
Fern catching her up in her arms again and kissing her. 

“ Miss Isahbelle said dis mornin’ when she was lickin’ 
me, you make me dat away.” 

“ Why did she whip you this morning?” asked Fern 
putting her down and tying a string of beads around her 
neck. 

“O, I done stole her batter of roses and she smelt it 
onto me, an’ oh, golly how she make my eye balls jingle. 
Don’t you want to chaw my gum. Fun?” she asked, 
stretching it out of her mouth into a long string. 


212 


FAY BANNING. 


“No thanks,” 

“ Yo’ hain’t goin’ ’way agin for long time is yo’, Fun?” 

“No.” 

“You’ll take me nex’ time, won’t yo’ ?” 

“Yes.” 

In the meantime Clyde had dismissed the coachman 
and stood listening with Fay to the jollity of the little 
darkey. He declined an invitation to accompany them 
into the house, promising to call later in the evening and 
took his departure. 

Fa}" wondered as they walked along toward the house. 
Fern meanwhile gamboling with the Princess, how widely 
Isabelle had published her story. If Clyde Leslie knew 
anything concerning it he either gave no credence to Isa- 
bell’s version of it, or was an adept at hiding any dispar- 
aging opinion he might entertain. He had repeatedly 
addressed her by her first name, Faith, as of old, betray- 
ing not the least sign of incredulity, by look or action^ as 
to its being her right name. 

“Ken I go into de house wiv yo’. Fun?” asked the 
Princess when they reached the piazza steps. 

“You run and play for an hour until I dress and get 
rested, when you may come and I will dress you in a new 
gown I have for you. Whodn the world cut and fitted 
that thing you have on ?” 

“ Ole Judy,” was the quick response. 

“ I do wonder how she ever contrived to get it into such 
an ill-fitting shape !” said Fern, turning the Princess 
around as she examined her frock. “ Here the bottom 
of the skirt is smaller around than the waist !” 

“ She done lay de cloth onto de floor, den lay me onto 
hit, an’ whacked her out wid de sheep-shears dat Rastus 
brought from de plantation, an’ cuffed me mor’n fifty 
times fo’ not layin’ still.” 


FAY BANNING. 


213 


Both girls smiled at this novel method of fitting a 
garment. 

“ Does you cut an’ fit dat away, Fun ?” inquired the 
Princess backing away. 

“No.” 

“ Does Clyde?” still pursued the inquisitive Princess. 

P'ay averted her face to hide the broad smile that passed 
over it, while Fern roguishly answered “ yes.” 

They passed on into the spacious hall where they met 
lyuce who greeted them with her loudest ‘ ‘ yah I yah ! 
yah!” Her large white eyes whose pupils looked like 
black coals in saucers of milk, sparkled as Fern tossed 
her a bright colored ribbon for her hair, and said : “That 
may help you catch a fellow. Where is papa and aunt 
Isabelle ?” 

“ Mars Feiand is out on de plantation to-day, an’ Miss 
Iserbelle is in her room,” replied the happy Fuce. 

“ Does she know we have arrived ?” 

“ Spec she does. I run to her door an’ tole her when I 
seed you cornin’ an’ she slammed it in my face an’ say, 

‘ Clar out you idiot or I’ll box your ears I ’ ” 

This meant volumes for Fay. A smile came and went 
instantaneousl}^ as she exchanged glances with Fern who 
looked grim, and said: “A warm greeting awaits us, 
eh ? It is quite evident she is not pleased with our re- 
turn, and is all iced up to meet us. It does seem that 
the very old Nick rules her. Where is Jake ?’ ’ she a.sked, 
turning to Fuce. 

“In de quahtahs managin’ a darnce,” was the reply. 

“ Go tell him to come here at once.” 

Fuce hurried away on her mission. They entered the 
drawing-room to await his coming, when Fern would 
dispatch him for the baggage. 

“Isn’t it strange what evil genius prompts aunt Isa- 
belle to make people wretched?” continued Fern, knit- 


214 


FAY BANNING. 


ting her brows and seating herself beside Fay on a divan. 
Fay made, no response, bul charged herself with being the 
cause of most of Isabelle’s wonted tantrums. She foresaw 
a meeting, an understanding as to her motive in living 
under a false name as she had done, and a separation. 
Yet how her heart ached at the thought of casting her 
lot again with strangers.* 

“ I wonder if I haven’t a right to come home,” Fern 
went on after a few moments of silence, ‘ ‘or is it the man- 
ner in which I come that annoys her?” 

‘‘I think I understand the cause of her strange con- 
duct,” replied Fay, arranging a fold of her dress, and in 
that instant controlling the trembling lips. 

‘ ‘ If you retrospect a little you will remember Polly 
Dutton’s scattering abroad vague stories concerning my 
early career, as reported by Mrs. Spofford, who received 
letters from Isabelle during our stay at Glen Hazel. Celia 
Tewksburry visited here, you remember, and I can con- 
jecture quite closely from what Polly told me while you 
were sick, what Celia has told. And now I believe in my 
heart (God forgive me if I judge them wrongfully) that 
Colonel Tewksburry was sent to Glen Hazel as a spy or 
for some evil purpose. Mark you what I say, and see if 
it doesn’t so transpire. My hypothesis may be absurdly 
drawn, but I shall firmly believe such was Tewksburry’s 
mission until the contrary is proven.” 

“Well — ahem 1” — began Fern. She arose, confronted 
Fay, and the burning cheeks, the flashing eyes, told of 
the intense ire that for a moment held her speechless. 
“If — such — is — the— case, better that mill-stones were 
hanged about their old necks, continued the indignant 
girl. “I have always had that old she villain in my 
home — the bane of my existence from the cradle — and 
now — if — she — has conspired with Celia Tewksburry to 
make you any more trouble, Fit make life a galling load 
for her!'"' 


FAY BANNING. 


215 


Fay had never before seen her in such an angry mood, 
and knowing she was the cause of incensing her, set about 
to cool her passion, which was no easy matter to do. 
Fern would have gone immediately upstairs and pitched 
battle with her aunt at once had not Fay restrained her. 
At this juncture Jake announced himself and was over- 
flowing with smiles at meeting “ de rose an’ lily ” again. 

Fay greeted him, collected the checks, and dispatched 
him for the trunks. 

“ Wonder what’s de mattah wid Miss Fern,” he mused 
as he walked awa3^ “ Her face done redder dan a cock’s 
comb.” 

” Perhaps the blacks may welcome us,*” said Fern after 
he had departed. ” It may be an hour before Jake re- 
turns with the trunks, and we can’t dress until he does. 
Let us take a stroll on the lawn and visit the quarters.” 

“Yes,” replied Fay, rising, “let us visit the quarters 
at once. You will find the friendship of the blacks un- 
swerving. IMay God hasten the day when their fetters 
shall be broken. Humanity is humanity whether it be 
found beneath the purple robes of the monarch or in the 
poor, shackled and trembling slave at your feet.” 

“You have voiced my sentiments exactly,” said Fern. 
“ I don’t think it will belong, either, before the North 
will try to liberate the slaves. A bitter feeling between 
the North and South is steadily growing. Already I 
smell powder in the air,” she said sniffing, and taking 
Fay’s arm, they left the house. A group of little dark- 
ies were loitering about the piazza to catch a glimpse of 
“Miss Fern” and “ de sweet lady,” a name they had 
early bestowed on Fay. How they chattered and laugh- 
ed and sung and frolicked when they were greeted by the 
ladies. Their joy was boundless, as was the joy of all 
the blacks at the quarters, on meeting again their young 
mistress and her kind and loving tutor and companion. 


216 


FAY BANNING. 


When they passed the kitchen door aunt Judy came run- 
ning out, her dress covered with flour, her hands just out 
of the dough, and welcomed them back with tears in her 
eyes. Mr. Iceland returned while they were out, and 
learning of the arrival of his daughter, hastened to meet 
them. He caught Fern in his arms and passionately 
covered her face with kisses. Miss Fariday he met with 
unusual reserve, his face betraying a look of sorrow — 
carefully noticed by Fay. When they re-entered the 
house, they found their trunks had arrived, and proceeded 
at once to their dormitories to dress for the evening. 
When they had finished their evening toilet they joined 
Mr. Iceland in the sitting room. He handed them a 
joint note that had been left for them wdiile they were 
dressing. It apprised them that a number of friends 
would call in the evening to welcome them home. With 
a struggle Fay succeeded in controlling her face. 

“ I wish they had deferred \X\€\x welcome to-morrow 
evening. I am so tired with our long journey. How- 
ever, there is no stopping them,” exclaimed Fern petu- 
lantly. 

“If my weariness was all,” thought Fay, “I could 
easily bear that part of it, but to meet them without know- 
ing what stories may be afloat concerning me, I cannot 
do it.” 

She anxiously regarded Mr. Leland’s face with her keen 
blue eyes as Fern told him the contents of the note, and 
observed the shadow which passed over it. 

“A proof,” thought Fay, “ that he wishes either to 
spare me, or doesn’t want me to disgrace the soiree. I 
must know at once how I am to act in this matter.” 

Then lifting her eyes, in which shone clearly the hon- 
esty of soul and purpose, so as to meet his, she began : 

“ Mr. Leland, I was informed, while absent from New 
Orleans, that my life before entering your home was told 


FAY BANNING. 


217 


here. Unfortunately for me the medium is an arch ene- 
my, and I fear would not scruple to tell a falsehood. 
Now, if Celia Tewksburry has told anything to blemish 
my character and it has been circulated here I wish to 
know it, and I will not appear this evening. I am ready 
now to tell you and Isabelle my story, which I have, per- 
haps unwisely, kept from you all these years.” 

When she had finished he was looking steadfastly into her 
honest face where not a trace of guilt or deception lurked. 
His eyes were full of tenderness and compassion and his 
voice trembled perceptibly as he replied: ” Miss Banning, 
for such I understand is your name, I will listen to your 
story with a profound interest — not to-night, but to-mor- 
row, when we will have plenty of time. Your secret is 
sealed. It shall never pass these walls if my word is law 
here. My sister has given me her solemn promise never 
to reveal, it unless you fail to comply with a certain request 
she wishes to make of you. Until then you rest in safety 
so far as the secret is concerned. Meet your friends to- 
night and let nothing mar your happiness — for my sake, 
do,” he pleaded, his eyes moistening with tears and be- 
traying deep emotion. 

Fay was thoughtful for a moment, then replied: “I 
am ready to do all I can for the happiness of others and 
will help entertain the friends this evening, but as for Isa- 
belle Iceland thinking to hold a secret like a Damocles 
sword suspended over my head, to awe me to do anything 
that may please her fancy, is folly.” 

She ended her declaration with spirit. 

” Where is your aunt ?” inquired Mr. Iceland of Fern. 

‘ ‘ I do not know, papa. The old pullet hasn’ t appeared 
since we arrived. Upstairs, likely, hatching out some 
mean scheme,” Fern replied with a contemptuous sneer. 

” Fern, it is wrong — very wrong ” — chided Mr. Ueland, 
” for you to speak of your aunt in this manner.” 


218 


FAY BANNING. 


“ It would be,” Fern went on with an independent 
air, ” if she were human. What a way to treat me, to 
coop herself up and fly at Luce with her wings spread, 
and threaten to box her ears for telling her we had ar- 
rived. I had intended to bury the hatchet, but you can 
see it will be necessary to leave the handle sticking up.” 

The bell now rang for tea, which checked the little 
tift that seemed imminent between father and daughter. 
For a moment all three sat silent and immovable. That 
w’onderful smile of Fay’s was on her face, that same 
sweet, innocent look that always shone there, as she 
lifted it to his. With all her sins about to be exposed, 
how could she bear up like that, ” What a mystery is 
woman !” thought he, as he gazed into that undaunted 
face, where he supposed the Igok of shame and dishonor 
ought to dwell. 

He had loved Fay Banning with his whole soul and 
only a few days before looked happily forward to the 
time when he would confess his love and ask for hers in 
return. Now that his fondest hope of earth was blasted 
— his daughter barely escaping ruin — his heart was 
lacerated to the core. He knew, too, that his daughter 
would never forsake Fay Banning. Though “her sins 
be as scarlet,” she would love her still. With her the 
chains of love when linked were of adamantine. How 
could he hope to sever the bonds and save his daughter. 
Another mountain rose high and tow^ering in his path. 
Her aunt hated her, which only served to increase her 
love for her governess, who had drifted into a companion. 

Fay never forgot that look of agony that settled on his 
face in that moment. 

The whole-souled and mischievous little Fern was the 
first to break the spell that bound them. 

” Come, papa,” she said, springing up, “we must eat 
just the same as when we are not all at loggerheads,” 


FAY BANNING. 


219 


Her father and Fay rose simultaneously and followed 
her to the tea-table, loaded with an epitome of the tropics 
for hungry travelers. But alas for appetites 1 “ Where 

is Isabelle?” asked Mr. Iceland of the waiter, as they sat 
down to the table. 

“ She wishes to be ’sensed on account of headache,” 
was the response. 

” Oh that head of hers is a convenient source of trouble 
at times,” chimed in Fern. 

” Fern 1” again reproved Mr. Iceland. 

The meal was passed almost in silence. The monotony 
only broken by an occasional groan from Fern and a 
complaint of headache which annoyed her troubled 
father exceedingly. Never before had she sought to 
tease him to his displeasure. 

When tea was over and they were leaving the room, a 
servant handed Fern a note that had been left for her. 
It was from Clyde, warning them ” to be in readiness to 
receive large numbers of the enemy as all were anxious 
to see them but would disband early.” 

Fern read it to Fay and her father, and adding ” that 
if a demonstration was forced upon them they might as 
well blow up with a big blow-out,” and that ” she would 
call every available black to decorate and make all the 
noise possible in doing z/.” 

Her indulgent father, ever ready to contribute to her 
happiness, insisted that she and Fay take a little of the 
rest that they so much needed, and he, in the absence of 
her aunt, would take the responsibility of making prepa- 
rations necessary for the evening’s entertainment. 

” But you won’t keep up the deafening din that must 
go on,” she remonstrated playfully. 

She finally yielded to his wishes after he had promised 
to make enough noise “to wake the seven sleepers,” and 
sought her room accompanied by Fay who maintained 


220 


FAY BANNING. 


most of her usual cheerfulness, though her heart was 
breaking. 

After they had dressed and sat down by the open win- 
dow to get the cool air of evening, Fay observed the 
moon rising over a distant steeple; 

‘ ‘ Ere theimoon rises again I suppose I shall know of 
the great mistake I have made in life.” 

‘ ‘ Ere another one waxes and wanes Isabelle Eeland 
shall know of the great mistake she has made in life by 
not accepting some of those offers she claims to have had 
to change her fortune — for her infestation here will be 
most mighty short,” said Fern with much grimtiess, and 
shaking her chubby little fist in the direction of her 
aunt’s apartment. 

“Fern, let me tell you something. I could have 
shaken you with a good grace, or attempted it, for your 
conduct while at the table. Anything you say and do 
now to vex your father and aunt will make matters worse 
for me. You have been given entirely into my hands 
for training, and I fear they think I have prepared a thorn 
for them.” 

“You have carefully nurtured a little thorn tree and 
trained it to grow gracefully; pruned off superfluous 
branches and shoots that would otherwise have spoiled 
the symmetry. This thorn has grown and spread and 
hedged round about the careful arboratress — if there is 
such a word — until it is thick and strong enough now to 
hold back a she-wolf that stands without, looking in with 
hungry glaring eyes at her. 

“That’s figurative language. 

“ For, stupid as I am, lean see with both eyes closed 
that my loving aunt has concocted a wily scheme and 
has hoodwinked my father, and is going to make you 
some trouble. 

“That’s literal language,” replied Fern. 


FAY BANNING. 


221 


No earthly power can avert a big row that is brewing 
in this family with Isabelle Leland, spinster, aided by 
the malevolent Celia on one side and Fay Banning with 
Fern Leland as her captain on the other and — papa — 
viewing the battle from the surrounding hills. But 
when the smoke is cleared away the fragments of those 
old maids won’t fill many baskets.” 

Fern was seated on a foot-rest at Fay’s feet and through 
her animated little speech gazed with deep sympathy up 
into the pallid face of the unfortunate girl whom the 
fates seemed warring against. 

Fay shrank from severing family ties but the upturned 
face of the beautiful girl, who was ever unfaltering in her 
friendship and love, as she assured her protection should 
she stand in need of it, caused the tears to well up in her 
eyes and course down her cheeks. Her lips trembled as 
she said softly: 

” Fern, I can nev — ” 

Choked beyond utterance and throwing her arms 
around the loving girl, covering her face with kisses, she 
let her tears speak the language of her soul for having 
one true friend whom the world could not change. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


The house was brilliant with light ; and magnificently- 
decorated. The halls and staircase were banked with 
flowers and palms. A row of palms and ferns, over 
which hung fantastic Japanese lanterns, bordered the 
piazza; hydrangias, with their huge clusters of pink and 
purple blossoms, were arranged upon the steps; the moon, 
fair queen of night, was riding through the heavens in 
peerless majesty, throwing her soft, silver light over the 
flowers and shrubbery and fountains on the lawn, which 
seemed to be vieing in dazzling splendor with the celes- 
tial worlds. 

At the last moment, Isabella appeared, actuated by 
jealousy, to fulfill her duty as hostess, and met her niece 
and ''Miss Banning '^ — the name spoken with ^uch 
emphasis — with a coldness, as Fern later remarked, that 
would have frozen a polar bear. 

. The pride and flower of the city graced that occasion. 
Charming young ladies, in delightful toilets, set the seal 
of perfection upon the brilliant scene. 

Dr. Forrester was one of the favorites. Being wise, he 
at first divided his attention among many ladies, but 
later he sought the company of one whose face and voice 
meant more than friendship or courtesy to him. 

Fay, with a group, including Isabelle, ever on the 
alert, was standing on the piazza admiring the scenic 
beauty of the night, when the Doctor joined the little 
knot of sky-gazers and lent enchantment with his mirth- 
provoking jests, unaware of heavy hearts and jealousy, 
and a pair of eyes sparkling with more than mirth, be- 
traying that the serpent had entered there. 

222 


FAY BANNING. 


223 


‘ ‘ So you concluded to give your patients a respite to- 
night, Doc ? ” said Jack Hastings, as the company began 
to drift apart. 

“ Yes,” laughingly replied the Doctor, “and no doubt 
their chances may be better for recovery for receiving a 
rest from antidotes. ” 

“ An^<:dotes rather,” responded Hastings. 

“ Where is Farnsworth to-night ? ’ ’ inquired the Doctor. 
“ He was to be here and announce the time of starting in 
the morning.” 

“ He is here,” responded Hastings; “arrived only a 
few minutes ago.” 

“ Come,” said the Doctor, offering his arm to Fay, “let 
us take a stroll in the moonlight.” 

Not from choice, but from courtesy, she acquiesced. 
As they passed down the steps and away, Isabelle 
watched them until they disappeared in the shadows of 
the trees, — her wicked heart now bent still more strongly 
on vengeance. 

Fay and her escort paused beneath the branches of a 
magnolia, through which the moonlight faintly shim- 
mered, and sat down on a rustic seat. Fay held her 
gown carefully up from the dew of the close-shaven grass, 
while the doctor made sure she was protected, by an 
India shawl, from the damp air of evening. They talked 
earnestly for a time of happenings that had occurred dur- 
ing her absence from the city ; then of the beauty of the 
night. Fay utterly forgetting her surroundings in her 
rapture. The Doctor, not so much an admirer of scenic 
beauty, utterly forgot it in his admiration for his com- 
panion. Conversation altogether ceased for a time, she 
dreaming of the far-off glories of the skies, he of — love. 

“ Do you not think our social a little untimely?” 
asked the Doctor, the first to interrupt the silence. 


224 


FAY BANNING. 


‘ ‘ Well, I own I am yet too newly arrived to be very 
entertaining. But Fern” — (whose musical laughter was 
now heard near by) — “seems to be as gay as though she 
had been settled for a month.” 

“What a happy little sprite she is, such a wag, such a 
droll, such a mimic,” remarked the Doctor. 

“Yes,” replied Fay, raising her eyes to meet the 
Doctor’s earnest gaze, “no one can languish or droop 
long in her society, no matter what the ailment.” 

“Yet,” reasoned the Doctor, “such mercurial organiza- 
tions as hers are subject to intervals of the deepest kind 
of lassitude and dejection at times. But to return to 
what I was about to say: Our coming so soon after your 
arrival had in its purpose more than merely to evince 
gladness of heart over your return. Our ‘ social forty ’ 
have planned an excursion for to-morrow to lake Pontchar- 
train. We were to meet this evening at Robinsons’, de- 
cide at what hour to start, and complete preparations for 
the trip. Hearing of your arrival, we changed our tac- 
tics, met here instead, and expect you will join us. Now, 
Miss Fariday,” he said, his voice scarcely more audible 
than a whisper, “ will you allow me to be your escort to- 
morrow ? I can assure you a royal time.” 

Another dilemma for Fay. To-morrow might find her 
defending her character from all appearances. She was 
thoughtful for a moment, then answered: 

“ Doctor Forrester, circumstances forbid that I should 
join your gay company to-morrow, though how much I 
would like to go I cannot begin to tell you. Please do 
not take offense at my refusing, for I can assure you it is 
no fault of mine that I decline; and why I reject your 
most kind and agreeable invitation you may some day 
know, yet now I cannot explain.” 

“lam convinced of your sincerity, although I feel 
greatly disappointed. But,” he added half jokingly, half 


FAY BANNING. 


•225 


sincerely, “I would feel much better did I know who 
your choice would be were you to go.” 

“You,” was the frank reply. 

He was now satisfied and happy — happy to think he 
would have been her choice. 

The appointed time had now arrived for the departure 
of the guests. They arose and walked slowly back to 
the house, wdierethe Doctor, after many lingering glances 
at Fay, took his leave of the hostess, who, to use Fern’s 
expressive language, ” was madder than a hornet.” 

After the last guest had departed, Isabelle ordered the 
doors closed and locked, saying “she wished people 
knew a seasonable time at which to call.” 

“That isn’t what is grinding the old girl,” whispered 
Fern to Fay as they stood watching Isabelle vehemently 
setting ill order disarranged articles, ” it is owing to the 
lack of attention from the Doctor! ” 

lyiice was cuffed in the clearance, aunt Judy pushed 
over a stool, thereby spilling a pitcher of lemonade in 
trying to maintain her equilibrium, and Phoebe Snow 
was dodging a volume of Scott’s novels, when Mr. Le- 
land ended the fray by ordering the servants to retire. 

How is 5^our head ? ” called Fern from the top of the 
stairs, where she and Fay had sought refuge in the early 
part of the discord. 

So terrible was the wrath of the frenzied woman that 
she replied with an oath, at which Fern tittered and Fay 
shuddered. 

“Guess if our guests had witnessed the last scene they 
would have been mindful that it isn’t all gold that glit- 
ters,” said Fern, as they entered Fay’s room. 

“They might have regarded her a diamond in the 
rough for the time being,” replied Fay. 

Fern threw herself wearily across the bed, whue Fay 
began arranging articles of dress for the morrow. 


226 


FAY banning. 


“ Wonder if she expects to go to-morrow,” said I^erii, 
yawning. 

“She rarely misses such treats if — ” 

” Yes, if. If someone will take her.” 

“Not that,” said Fay, smiling at Fern’s impulsive- 
ness, ‘‘but if she is notin an ill-humor.” 

” Clyde said she expected to go. Wonder who with ? 
Doctor, likely. Ah! ‘ I smell a rat.’ You have come 
between. That is what has converted her into a war- 
horse. ’ ’ 

“ If such is the case it is really too bad that she doesn’t 
know that I am not going. It might have a very sooth- 
ing influence.” 

” You are 7iot going! Do you mean to say you are not 
going?” 

Fern now sat upright and looked at the other as if to 
question the truth of her statement. 

“ Under the circumstances I cannot go. I must an- 
swer to-morrow, you remember, for my past sins.” 

“I guess that would keep until you could return. 
But if you choose to remain and fight it out to-morrow. 
I’ll stay and be your van-guard and should you fall in 
the action, I will catch up your torn plumes and flaunt 
them in their faces and shout ‘ long live the memory of 
Fay Banning.’ ” 

‘ ‘ Tut, my pretty darling, you shall go to-morrow and 
do all your skirmishing when you return. I feel able to 
make a brave r’efense unguarded and alone.” 

Fay had now finished her work and came and sat down 
beside Fern. 

“Oh, had I only known this I would never have 
promised George Oaks to go with him to-morrow.” 

” George Oaks,” repeated Fa}^ in surprise. 

“Yes; Clyde asked Genia Hetherton to go with him 
before we came.” 


I^AY BANNING. 


227 


“Well, my little girl, with your papa’s consent, you 
must fulfill your engagement. I will keep until you 
return.” 

Fern gazed for a few moments at the wall with disap- 
pointed air; then hearing her father’s foot-steps in the 
hall on his way to his room, she went to the door and 
accosted him with: 

“Papa may I go to the lake to-morrow with the ex- 
cursionists? I don’t cafe what the decision is. I had 
rather stay with you; then — too, Fay isn’t going. 
That is what brought them all here to-night to see if we 
would go.” 

“Why, my daughter,” said her father, pausing, “I am 
just hungry* for your company; but there will be plenty 
of time for us to quarrel after that, eh ?” he said, patting 
her cheek. “You had better go. Of course you are 
going with Clyde ?” 

“ No; with George Oaks,” returned Fern. 

” With — George— Oaks,” repeated her father. 

“Yes. Clyde is going with Genia Hetherton. It was 
arranged before I came home. Say ‘ yes ’ or ‘ no,’ papa; 
and I don’t care which.” 

“Why, my daughter, George Oaks is only the son of 
a poor carpenter.” 

“Well, what of that. Our Savior was only the son of a 
poor carpenter, ’ ’ tartly. 

Mr. Leland took his daughter by the arm, kissed her 
good night at her door and retired without further debate. 

The next day at 10 o’clock, the excursion party set out 
for Lake Pontchartrain. At precisely a half hour later a 
court convened in the back parlor of the Leland mansion 
for the trial of Fay. 

Mr. Leland, wan and haggard, assumed the function 
of judge; with Isabelle nervous and fitful acting as com- 
plainant, while Fay, calm and collected, maintained the 
defense. 


228 


FAV BANNING. 


The judge with a face as long as the moral law ejt- 
pressed in his preliminary remarks much sorrow and 
regret at having to discharge a duty so painful to him 
and the fair prisoner and distasteful to his chaste sister, 
at the close of which Fay ver}^ coolly asked him to state 
the charges. 

Turning to his sister, now a sordid Shylock, w^ho was 
clawing at her hair in her impatience to have the prosecu- 
tion proceed, the judge asked : 

“ Will you state them, Isabelle ?” 

“ No, Guy; I am too much wrought up over this scan- 
dal to do it. Oh, to think of all this shameful disgrace 
brought down upon our heads! And it all comes, too, 
by taking in a stranger, the one thing above all others I 
warned you not to do when I came to be your guardian 
angel. You heeded not your sisters warning voice; now 
Guy Leland, you reap the fruits of your obstinacy.” 

Poor Isabelle! To add effect to her little speech she 
raised her "handkerchief to her eyes. But, alas, the 
droughts there had been too long unbroken and no amount 
of rubbing would induce them to exude one briny tear. 

‘‘Why didn’t I think to put something smarting on 
my handkerchief?” she said to herself. 

‘‘Then,” said the judge, again addressing himself to 
Fay, “it befalls me to prefer the charges. But why 
repeat them? Suffice to say we are now acquainted 
with your past and are nearly distracted at the disclos- 
ure. Why not quietly leave — ” 

“Shan’t I get you a handkerchief, Guy?” sobbed 
Isabelle from behind hers. 

“ — For parts unknown to your circle of acquaintances, 
begin life anew and try and make amends for the past.” 

“Yes!” said Isabelle with a sob. 

“ In heaven’s name,” cried Fay, half rising, “tell me, 
man, what have I been guilty of that could in anywise 
defame my character! ” 


FAY BANNING. 


229 


“Tell her all, Gll3^” cried , Isabelle, from behind her 
handkerchief, while striving to control her emotion. 

“ Do not take it so to heart, dear sister,” said the just 
judge, turning to the weeping Niobe. 

But the handkerchief would not come down. No 
rainbow appearing to give token that a flood might not 
be visited upon them, he continued the proceedings: 

“ You have a step-father?” asked the judge of the de- 
fendant. 

“ Well, I hardly know how to answer — ” 

“Allen Tewksburry married your mother did he not?” 

“ Yes, sir. He married my step-mother.” 

The truth now began to flash across Fay’s mind. Al- 
len Tewksburry had had a purpose in visiting at Glen 
Hazel more than merely “to sit under Van Bummel’s 
hog-nut tree.” What could his purpose have been ? 

“I forbear to tell the rest,” said the judge, with 
blanched face.” 

“ Bear up, Guy! ” sobbed his heart-broken .sister. 

While he made the last attempt the innocent girl 
looked him steadfastly in the face. 

“ Was your mother’s jealousy of you and Allen Tewks- 
burry which caused you to leave your home, groundless ?” 

“ Guy Leland, wdiat do you mean ?” cried Fay at the 
unexpected falsehood, as she quickly rose, pale and 
trembling, and confronted him. 

“ Tell her ! ” was what followed a sob from behind the 
handkerchief. 

He was silent for a few moments, his courage seeming 
to have failed him, while Fay stood looking down upon 
him, as inflexible as a figure of marble. 

“ One more firebrand to hurl,” at length, resumed 
the judge in a husky voice, “then I am done. Isabelle, 
where are those letters? Oh, merciful God what a 
scandal to have my innocent child dragged into, true or 
untrue,” 


230 


FAY BANNING. 


“Yes — ah; on — ah — the — ah — stand — ah — at your side 
— ah,“ was all the weeping woman could say. 

He handed Fay the letters which Isabelle had received 
from Mrs. Spofford. She sat down and read them while 
the crimson tide rose and spread over her face and neck as 
she thought how her enemies had united, carefully 
planned and accomplished her ruin. The wily Celia was 
plumed with evil honors which she had not earned. 

“And so you believe me guilty of all this !“ said Fay, 
when she had finished the letters and handed them back. 

“ I am forced to until you prove your innocence.” 

“ And that is impossible. That woman sitting there, 
has as last succeeded in accomplishing her evil design. 
For five years she has shadowed me, watching and plot- 
ting. The evil one has helped her. She rejoices while 
she feigns sorrow over disgrace.” 

Down came the handkerchief from eyes glaring with 
bitter hatred. 

“ Ah, I tremble for her when she must step into God’s 
balance in the judgment,” Fay continued in desperation. 
Turning to the imperious figure whose eyes were fixed 
on her with a greedy triumph she continued: 

“ How well your little game has worked. You have 
sullied my character for the selfish end — jealousy. You 
hope to break my friendship with a man whom I could 
never, never wed — no, not if he were infallible !” 

‘ ‘ I will hear no more of your abuse, you vile creat- 
ure !” screamed Isabelle, advancing with a menacing 
gesture. “ You earth-worm 1 Leave the house this min- 
ute and never dare to enter it again !” 

“ Back, back !” cried Fay stepping to meet her, “ and 
do not provoke me more unless you wish to pay for some 
of your nefarious work.” 

Isabelle recoiled. She saw in the face of her victim a 
look of desperation that meant defence if force be used in 
the ejection. 


FAY BANNING. 


231 


“ And now,” continued Fay, when Isabelle had seated 
herself behind Mr. Iceland, quite out of reach, “I will 
tell you my story that has been a mystery so like a hid- 
den hand to you, if you care to hear it. Perhaps, though, 
you will give it little credence when done. Will you 
hear it, or are you waiting for me to go?” 

“Waiting for you to go!” voiced the spiteful Isa- 
belle. 

‘W<7 — no — no ; not waiting for you to go 1 Miss Ban- 
ning pray be seated again and tell me your sad story, for 
such it is, I truly believe, and I will listen to the end with 
the most profound interest,” said Mr. Iceland, motioning 
her to a chair. 

“ Oh, I shall die to hear her go on 1 Guy Iceland you 
naughty, naughty, wicked man to want to hear the story 
of such a character as she. Oh, can’t I save you — can’t 
I keep you from hearing it ? Oh, my poor dear Guy, do 
listen to me, and — ” 

“ Isabelle, will you please be still ?” said Mr. Leland, 
in a tone evincing more firmness than entreaty. 

Fay again seated herself and with remarkable compo- 
sure for one being “ tried as by fire,” related her story — 
the story that the reader is too familiar with to admit of 
repetition — with pathos of voice and an earnestness that 
would have carried conviction to any heart but one hard- 
ened like Pharaoh’s. 

She concluded with : “And now God forgive me if I 
err in judgment, but I know Allen Tewksburry was a 
hireling of one or both of these women sent to Glen Ha- 
zel to perfect this scandal. For a little money he would 
sell his soul, and the same spirit predominates in hiir 
daughter, and — and I fear their cousin Isabelle has been 
inoculated with some of their vileness.” 

“ Put her out of the house!” screamed Isabelle. “Guy 
Iceland, will you sit by and hear your sister’s name re- 


232 


FAY BANNING 


viled in this manner? For shame ! Put her out of the 
house I say I” 

“ Be patient, Miss Leland. I shall soon quit your pre- 
sence. I wish Fern were here to tell you what my atti- 
tude was toward Tewksburry at Glen Hazel, but you 
will hear it when she returns,” said Fay, addressing her- 
self to Mr. Iceland. 

Guy Iceland had never given full credence to the tale 
told by Isabelle, and now began to think that it might be 
a wicked fabrication to remove Fay from her pathway. 
Still, the story was too carefully concocted to be ignor- 
ed without proofs of its falsit}’. He could not hope to 
shelter Fay longer at present. After a brief reflection, he 
said : ” Miss Banning, I would advise 3’ou to leave New 
Orleans for the present. However, I believe you innocent 
of this calumny.” 

Isabelle could bear no more. She rose and showered 
maledictions on her brother, accused him of grave mis- 
doings and threatened to poison him. When the storm had 
partially subsided he continued, “and, too, if you can 
leave before Fern returns without serious inconvenience, 
I think it will be better for us all for the present. But 
remember — remember, Fay Banning, j^ou leave good 
friends behind.” 

“ To leave New Orleans has been my intention for 
some time. I can leave the house within an hour. And 
now, Mr. Feland,” she said, rising and giving him her 
hand, while the tears dimmed her eyes, “farewell. I 
shall ever cherish your memory and Fern’s.” 

Here she broke down completely and left the room. 
Within the expected time she tearfully left the house 
without any good-byes or any kind adieus to cheer her on 
her way. Shortly after a cartman called for her trunks, 
and again she was an outcast drifting on a troubled sea. 


FAY FANNING. 


233 


“Where is Fay?” was Fern’s inquiry of her father 
when she met him at the door in the evening after her 
return. 

Mr. Leland led his daughter into the private parlor and 
related all that had occurred during her absence. 

When he had finished, contrary to his expectations, 
she betrayed no signs of concern, rather a disregard. 

The next morning she asked him at the breakfast table 
if he knew whither Fay had gone, which he did not. 

Accompanied by Clyde Teslie she began a se^ch at 
once for her lost and beloved companion, inquiring at all 
the places where she had heard Fay speak of applying for 
a position after her expected departure from the Leland 
home. But to no avail. The time came for Clyde to re- 
turn to college. Still Fern wandered on hopeful and un- 
tiring in her search. She visited all the neighboring 
towns and cities but her inquiries were always met with 
the same cold “ no,” when she would tearfully turn away 
and direct her steps to some other place where she thought 
Fay might be found. In vain did her troubled father per- 
suade her to give up her search. People began to pro- 
nounce her demented. 

Doctor Forrester was shocked to learn of Fay’s true 
character, and thanked his lucky stars that love’s magic 
spell had not totally bankrupted his heart for this wicked 
woman. 

Isabelle and the doctor were getting on swimmingly. 
He was a very 'frequent caller now at the Iceland mansion. 
“But preferred to call,” he said, “when that devilish girl 
was off somewhere riding on the wings of the nightmare,” 
for she was constantly playing off some mean tricks on 
him when she was at home. And Isabelle claimed to 
suffer everything but death at her hands. 

Thus the autumn and mild winter passed away. Fern 
either searching for Fay, or at home tormenting her aunt 
and the doctor. Pier pranks at last came to a sudden crisis. 


234 


FAY BANNING. 


One morning as Fern was going down to breakfast she 
met Luce in the hall crying and carrying in her hand a 
broken string of beads. Fern accosted her with ; ‘ ‘What 
are you blubbering about, Luce ?” 

“O, Mis Fun,” wailed the poor creature, ” Mis Iserbelle 
done git mad kase I didn’ bring her water up quite quick 
’nuf, an’ w’en I come grabbed me by de beads an’ yanked 
me roun’ till she done broke ’em an’ dey’s de ones Kun- 
nel Tucksburry gib me.” 

‘‘Colonel Tewksburr}^ When in the world did Colonel 
Tewksburry givQjo2c a string of beads?” 

‘‘ When you was up Norf, boo — hoo I” 

” Stop your squalling and tell me all about it and I’ll 
give you enough money to buy a dozen strings of beads. 
How long was he here ?” 

‘‘O, a week mebby,” replied Luce, wiping her eyes 
and smiling at the prospect of more beads. 

‘‘ Where did he go from here, do 3'ou know ?” 

” No ; on’y Jake say he went away to de Gulf in a big 
boat. Spec he went on the ocean summers.” 

” Was aunt Isabelle very kind to him. Luce?” 

“ ’Deed, honey, she was dat ! She didn’ zactly carry 
him roun’ on a chip, but she done toted him roun’ in de 
carriage a powerful sight.” 

‘‘That is enough. Luce,” said the now triumphant 
girl tossing her a piece of money. ‘‘One more good 
solid link for the chain,” she said to herself as she de- 
scended the stairs. 

In vain did Mr. Leland try to converse with Fern that 
eventful morning at table. She would stop eating, hold- 
ing her fork in her hand, and gaze vacantly at some ob- 
ject, seeming totally unconscious of his presence for a 
time. Isabelle’s presence at last put an end to her rumi- 
nation, but she passed the remainder of the meal in 
silence. When Mr. Leland had finished breakfast he 


FAY BANNING. 


235 


kissed her, and wondering what she was studying about, 
hurried away on business. 

“Half an hour later, people living in the vicinity of 
the Leland home were startled at hearing shots — bang ! 
bang! bang! bang! bang! bang* bang! — seven times in 
rapid succession, and a woman’s voice screaming for 
help. Soon people were seen running in that direction 
from every quarter, and the word “ murder” was passed 
from lip to lip. 

Dr. Forrester was sitting at his desk in his office writ- 
ing prescriptions, when a man came dashing in nearly 
speechless and out of breath said: “Come quick! 
Isabelle Iceland is dying 1 Shot by her niece ! ” 

Doctor Forrester let fall his pen, turned in his chair 
and stared at the man, unable to speak or rise. 

“ Come! ” shouted the man. “ Don’t be sitting there 
like a statue in such a time as this.” 

The doctor ran out of the office, sprang into his car- 
riage, which was fortunately standing before the door, 
and drove away at full .speed. 

“Stand back!” commanded an officer to the doctor 
as he was pushing his w'ay through the crowd of people 
standing at the door of the room in which the unfortunate 
woman lay upon a bed, weltering in her gore. The doc- 
tor heeded not the command, but pushed his way into 
the room while the surly officer growled “that the dying 
woman had got to be finished b}" a doctor, when she was 
so anxious to make a confession of something which would 
condemn her soul if she were to die without making it.” 

“Has the perpetrator of this deed been arrested?” 
asked the doctor of a woman standing at the head of the 
bed. 

“ She cannot be found! ” was the answer. 

“ You may soon render an account for the works done 
in the body, to the Searcher of all hearts,” said the mag- 


236 


FAY BANNING, 


istrate, with solemnity, who was about to receive the con- 
fession of the apparently dying woman. “ Do you affirm 
that what you are about to say is the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth, for which you will 
answer in the great day ? ” 

“ I — Ido, ” feebly replied the wounded woman. “Have 
you sent for a minister?’’ she gasped. 

“Yes,” replied the magistrate. “You had better give 
your testimony in as few words as possible.” For her life 
seemed to be fast ebbing away. 

‘I have wronged Fay Banning,” faltered Isabelle, 
“ and may God forgive me for the cruel act.” 

She repeated the story of her guilt and Allen Tewks- 
burry’s. Celia was cleared of any connection in the 
affair. The listeners were dismayed, especially Doctor 
Forrester. When she had finished her confession, the 
minister, who had arrived, began a prayer for the guilty 
woman’s soul, while the doctor began an examination of 
her wounds. 

“ And you swear that Fern Deland did the shooting ? ” 
asked the magistrate. 

“ I do,” 'faintly came the answer back, as of a depart- 
ing .spirit. 

The doctor now imagined he heard suppressed laugh- 
ter issuing from the alcove that opened out of the room 
near the bed. Pushing aside the tapestry, he peered in, 
but seeing no one, let it fall back again. 

After washing away the blood and carefully examining 
Isabelle’s face, he staggered back against the wall and 
burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter, which was 
echoed back from the alcove, to the astonishment of the 
good people around, while the stony eyes of Isabelle were 
fixed upon the Doctor. 

“ Sir,” said the indignant magistrate, “ explain your 
strange conduct at once 1 ” 


FAY BANNING. 


237 


Mr. Iceland now dashed breathlessly into the room 
more dead than alive over hearing of the dreadful calamity 
that had befallen his family. 

“ Kxcuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” said the doctor, 
with ill-suppressed merriment, “but after a careful ex- 
amination of the wounds I find that the victim has only 
been treated to a dose of salt and split peas — another 
prank of that devilish girl who is somewhere hidden in 
that alcove! ” 

Fern now came bounding forth from her retreat exult- 
ant over her success, and exclaimed : 

‘‘Ladies and gentlemen, you now behold the heroine 
of the hour, who has at last succeeded in out- witting her 
loving aunt — Isabelle I ” 

There was a sudden rush for the door, and the room 
was soon cleared of all save Mr. Leland and the doctor. 
Fern and Isabelle. The immoderate laughter that came 
wafting back to Isabelle’s ears sounded cruel and mock- 
ing. The baffled woman raised herself up to a sitting 
posture and her expression of countenance showed a 
strange mixture of grave-snatching and intense mortifi- 
cation. 

Mr. Leland was still mystified. The doctor hastily 
collected his pill-bags and canceled his bill with his exit. 
Fern explained the situation fully to her father in the 
presence of her aunt, now suffering from a torture worse 
than the throes of death. Mr. Leland was not much less 
humiliated than his sister, but bore his part in silence. 

‘‘A thousand times better you had killed me! ” groaned 
Isabelle, as she went staggering from the room. 

“ You’ve taken your own medicine — a poison prepared 
for Fay Banning! ” was Fern’s offering of sympathy. 

In an incredibiy short space of time Isabelle’s wound 
healed sufficiently to allow her to travel without attract- 
ing the attention of strangers. One stilly night when 

V . . r # , # ' 

- f 


li^AY banning. 


the stars were scintilating in the vaulted arch of heaven, 
and the eyes of those who were wont to smile at grave 
misfortune were closed in sleep, our crest-fallen Isabelle 
tearfully bade her brother and niece farewell, entered a 
close carriage awaiting her at the gate, and rode away. 
In the gray of the morning, at a small port above New 
Orleans, she boarded a north bound steamer that bore 
her many miles away from the scene of her late direful 
humiliation. Away in Canada lived a rich aunt who 
had oftentimes invited her accomplished niece to come 
and share her home with her. Thither Isabelle was 
bound. 

Mr. Iceland now joined Fern in her search. Informa- 
tion of Fay’s whereabouts was asked for through leading 
newspapers. 

Four weeks after the departure of Isabelle, Fern, accom- 
panied by her father and Princess Henrietta, journeyed 
north, hoping in their travels to glean tidings of the 
wanderer. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


“Sal— ly !” 

No response. 

“Sal — ly !“ — louder than before. 

Still no answer. 

“ Sal — ly !“ — a shrill scream. 

“ What in the name of unkammon .sense is you squealin’ 
like that thar for ? Does yo’ think my ears are done 
growed up ?” grumbled Sally coming forth from behind 
the stove in the kitchen in answer to the call of Celia who 
stood with her head thrust in the door. 

“Why didn’t you answer my first call, you hateful 
old thing, then I wouldn’t have nearly screamed my 
lungs out. If your arm wasn’t broken, my old lady, I 
would pull 3^our wool soundly for you,’’ was Celia’s 
angry retort. 

“ Now, lemme tell ye,’’ said the old negress in a loud 
voice and pointing her long bony finger at her, “ ef 3"Ou 
know when your bread is buttered, my sweet little lump 
of ole Satan, yo’ll keep your ban’s out’n — my — wool.” 

“ Do not menace me thus, or I’ll forget that you have 
a broken limb for a short time. I .will not take your in- 
solence !” cried Celia, springing into the room and clutch- 
ing hold of old Sally’s hand, “ Haven’t I a perfect right 
to call you at my pleasure ?” 

“No, indeedy ! Miss Stuckup-berry, you has not!” 
was Sally’s peremptory answer while stfuggling to release 
her hand. 

“And why not ?” asked Celia, tightening her grip. 

“You hain’t heerd of that thar new will that’s been 
found, I reckon I O, no ; you hain’t heerd the news 1 

239 


^40 


I^AY BANNING. 


Ho 1 ho ! ho ! Kf poor Fay kin be foun’ yo’ll be packin’ 
up one ob these mighty fine days an’ niakiii’ out’n heah! 
Yo’ll kaim roun’ — he 1 he ! he 1 — with the tears tricklin’ 
down over your cheeks — ho ! ho ! ho ! — an’ say — sez you 
to me — whimperin’ like — sez you to ole Sally what yo’ve 
often kicked and cuffed — sez you to me : ‘ good-bye, 
Sally : Ise gwine away.’ Yes, you’ll go, an’ maybe peo- 
ple will shut their doors agin ye 'an’ the dogs bark at ye 
at nights like dey did at poor Fa}^, sweet lamb, when 
she run away in the night w’en she could no longer stand 
your abuse. O, it is all in ole Sally’s min’ yit 1” 

Now Celia’s curiosity was aroused to know how much 
of the scandal was current. Sally had heard something 
and that something she must know. Releasing her hand 
and stepping back, she assumed a look of perplexity as 
she said : 

“A — new — will — has — been — found ! What do you 

mean ?” 

“O, you know well nuff, an’ lettin’ on you haint heerd 
it ! Arthur Ellsmere got that thar will you an’ that 
Barger gang was after. Remus an’ Chloe done tole a 
sprinkle, Missa Ellsmere done tole a heap, an’ Mose’s 
Dinah done tole a right smart. But,” said Sally, her 
face betraying deep sorrow, ” somebody’s done shot an’ 
most killed Arthur. Poor dear boy I All de pious nig- 
gers are wras’lin’ in prayer for his discovery, an’ if he 
don’t git well. I’ll be more stench ’n ever in my belief 
thar haint enny fishency in prayer. I done believed thar 
was once an’ done a power of it, but when you kept right 
on sellin’ and lickin’ contrary to my axin’, I rose up an’ 
gritted my ole snags an’ said long with the infiddle thar 
— haint — no — God! But if he’ll listen this time an’ re- 
suctionate Arthur an’ bring Fay back, I’ll forgive him if 
he’ll forgive me, an’ kaim back into de fold.” 


FAY BANNING. 


241 


“ Hurry up dat supper ! Mars Tooksburry done say 
he’ll go to eatin’ de pcckannies if taint soon ready !” 
came the cry from a little woolly head thrust in at the door. 

“Oh yes. I nearly forgot my errand,” exclaimed 
Celia, her desire for news never more satiated than now. 

‘ ‘ I came to order supper for pa — fa — Colonel Tewksburry 
who has just arrived. 

“ Sally, where is Jane ?” she continued. 

“After meat.” 

“Will you tell her when she comes to hurry up the 
supper ?” 

“Ef I don’t fo’git it. Ise gettin’ drefful forgettin’ 
now.” 

Bitter disappointment, blended with shame and guilt 
had a very marked effect on Celia’s temper, which was 
high, even when the world went well with her. Now, 
she had all the fire of a hunted tigress. Sally’s last 
taunting reply was the straw that broke the camel’s 
back. 

“ Take that ! take that to jog up your memory !” she 
cried, striking Sally full in the face, which sent her reel- 
ing backward. “And still regard me here as the power 
behind the throne. Your beloved Mistress Fay will have 
some obstacles to cut away from her path to the crown!” 

Maimed and unable to make the slightest resistance 
Sally kept backing and backing trying to dodge the angry 
w'oman’s blows, which were falling thick and fast, until 
she came to the closet door, which stood ajar, when Celia 
pushed her in and closed the door, crying : “ If I hear 
another crooked word out of your mouth to-night /’// kill 
you!'' 

“Ram’s horn, if I die for it!” cried the invincible 
Sally from her dungeon. 

“ Laws, Miss Celia, what is the mattah ?” cried Jane, 
who now entered the kitchen with a basket of meat. 


242 


FAY BANNING. 


“Get the supper, Jane, as quickly as possible. The 
Colonel has arrived,” answered Celia, turning away from 
the closet door and quitting the room. 

Sally ambled out of her prison as soon as she was gone 
and used some forcible language in explaining the situa- 
tion to Jane, ending her maledictions with: “ I lay to 
have revenge on that critter !” 

“ O, Sally, don’t talk that ar way. Don’t j^ou know 
the Scripters read : ‘ Vengeance is mine an’ I will pay 
’em off saith the devil’,” chided the pious Jane. 

This was consolation for Sally, and she ceased her re- 
vengeful talk. 

“ Dey do say,” said Jane, as she bustled about prepar- 
ing the supper, “ dat one of ’em ’ar gals wot foun’ Aw- 
thur was Fay.” 

“Now, Jane, kin — that — thar — be! Jane, does you 
know what you tellin’ me? Hey, Jane?” cried Sally, 
leaving the browning coffee to burn, and clutching hold of 
Jane’s arm in her joyful surprise, causing her to spill a 
dipper of hot w^ater on the cat, which made a tour of the 
room in a circle, then disappeared through the open door 
with a tremendous squall. “ Whar did dey go, chile, 
w’en dey left ‘de Bar’ ?” 

“Went to Frankfort, an’ nobody knows whar they 
went from thar. ” 

“O, Lor, kin it be possible that it war her ?” 

And Sally went back to her coffee, unmindful of the 
painful accident. 

“Awthur he nearly wild about it. He says he knows 
as it war her, old Dinah says, an’ dey am jes’ holin’ him 
down to keep him from gittin’ up an’ follerin’ her to Frank- 
fort. An’ Missa Ellsmere, she am berry low now ober de 
combustication. Dey don’t thmk she will live,” con- 
tinued Jane dolefully. 


FAY BANNINC^. 


248 


“0, lyOr help her !” groaned Sally, slowly stirring the 
burning coffee. “Who do they think shot Arthur ?“ 
Ole Mose he say he am willin’ any time to swar on a 
pile of Bibles higher dan his head that it war Jim Barger, “ 
replied Jane. 

“O, I.orl“ 

“ Wonder whar dat sewin’ gal come from dat am mak- 
in ’ Miss Cely’s new gowns?’’ queried Jane after ^ brief 
silence. 

“ Dunno; but I think she am a pryin’ critter, a match 
for Miss Cely, fo”' dis mawnin’ when I went into the 
breakfast room after de linen I kotched her with her ear 
at de key-hole in Missis’ door, listenin’ to Missa July an’ 
Cely who war in dar talkin’ low.’’ 

“ Did yo’ tell on ’er ?’’ 

“No; indeedy. What I care what she hear! It 
wouldn’t be very good talk she hear from dem. Now 
dat de pussy Kunnel has got back, spec dar’ 11 be har 
pullin ’mongst ’em. But deir ban’s won’t be full of 
nigger wool while he heah.’’ 

“ Dor help de poor critter,’’ sighed Jane. “His life 
haint much better dan a nigger’s while he is heah.’’ 

Det us now enter the house and see what mischief is 
brewing. 

In the sewing-room, with heaps of unfinished gar- 
ments strewn about her, sits a pretty little brunette with 
the blackest of hair and eyebrows^^ — the eye-brows meet- 
ing — and dark creamy complexion — altogether giving 
her the appearance of a Senorita, cutting and basting, 
back-stitching and felling, hemming and seaming on a 
nun’s habit, crooning at her work and wondering what 
Miss Celia can be wanting of such a costume. 

‘ ‘ Can it be possible she is about to renounce her sins 
and take the black veil?’’ commented the clever little 
seamstress. “She doesn’t seem very penitent the way 
she cuffs the poor niggers around.’’ 


244 


FAY BANNING. 


Celia now entered the room in a high state of excite- 
ment. 

“ Have you that suit finished?” she demanded with 
severity. 

“.Not quite; the white yoke is to hem, then it is done,” 
was the meek reply. 

“Well, I think I have seen speedier workers,” said 
Celia decidedly. 

The seamstress winced but made no reply and contin- 
ued stitching busily away. 

“Perhaps you are wondering what I am going to do 
with my regalia,” said Celia in a more amiable tone, 
after a brief silence. 

“N-o; I had not wondered,” was the calm reply. “I 
take it for granted you are a Sister of Mercy, or about to 
become one.” 

It was now Celia’s turn to wince. She colored slightly 
and replied: 

“N-o; you see a charitable society in Frankfort, of 
which I am a leading member, propose to establish a 
play, the receipts to go toward erecting a hospital, and in 
the play I am to figure as a Mother Superior. Won’t I 
make a loving sister, ha! ha! ha! ” laughed the deceitful 
woman. 

The seamstress made no reply, but scanned her feat- 
ures closely and stitched on as before, while Celia 
admiringly re-examined the many fine fabrics that were 
lying around, soon to be fashioned into dainty robes for 
her mother and herself. At last the holy vestment was 
finished, and Celia retired to her room to try it on. She 
soon re-appeared, looking very saintly in her cloisteral 
robe. It was a fine fit and suited her perfectly. 

Tea was now announced, and Celia, after changing her 
attire, ushered our little seamstress, timid and trembling, 
into the dining room, where she, for the first time, beheld 
the stuffy Colonel. 


FAY BANNING. 


245 


“ Miss Bird; Colonel Tewksburry/’ was the short and 
formal introduction given by Madame Julia. 

“ Happy to meet you, Miss Bird,” said the Colonel, 
courtesy ing in a most clownish manner. ” Bird! Bird! ” 
he said, scratching his head, “urn — ah, what kind of bird, 
pray — martin or pewit ?” 

Miss Bird smiled and attempted a reply, but was 
effectually checked by Madame Julia, who said curtly, 

‘ ‘ Pray be seated sir, and be gentlemanly enough not to 
question as to species.” 

“Humph,” snapped Celia, “one w^ould think you 
were utterly v^oid of sense!” 

They now sat down, when the Colonel made another 
venture at sentimentality. 

“Nightingale perhaps. Let’s see; the name of this 
beautiful warbler is derived from the Saxon niht, night, 
2iW^galan, to sing; or the night singer. At midnight, 
when the moon is at her full, and the weather is serene 
and still, thy pleasing notes I shall hear; the sweet des- 
cants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and 
redoubling of thy voice in the rich cadence until thy lit- 
tle throat is ready to burst with the melody. Blit hold! 
you are not the right gender of bird to sing!” 

“Colonel Tewksburry!” cried Madame Julia, horrified. 

“ Colonel Tewksburry!” reiterated Miss Celia. 

“ Don’t forget that I’m your pa, Ceal.” . 

Celia groaned, accompanied by Madame Julia. Miss 
Bird appeared uneasy. 

“ But your garb is not the color peculiar to the night- 
ingale. I’m blest if you arn’t a snipe!” The Colonel 
lifted his cup to his lips as he finished his last remark, 
when Madame Julia, provoked beyond forbearance with 
his loquacity, raised her hand and struck his cup, dash- 
ing the hot coffee into his face, exclaiming: “You 
beast! Will you never stop your prate!” 


246 


FAY BANNING. 


Now ensued a panic. The Colonel, strangled and 
burnt, jumped up from the table and indulged in a lively 
little talk more emphatic than elegant, while Madame 
Julia rose up and heaped maledictions on his head. Miss 
Bird held her breath in fright, while Celia laughed at 
the disgraceful scene. 

“Denimy, if you were a man,” said the Colonel, when 
he had sufficiently recovered his breath enough to speak, 
” I would try your strength 1” 

” \i you were a man, you would act the part of a man 
and not provoke me to do such acts,” said Madame 
Julia, seating herself again and continuing the meal. 

Miss Bird, finding her appetite had deserted her, and 
not caring to witness any more scenes, now rose from 
the table, excused herself, and was leaving the room, when 
the Colonel, addressing himself to Madame Julia, said: 
” You have broken up the feast, my dear, in most ad- 
mired disorder.” 

Closing the door behind her. Miss Bird heard no more. 
She passed directly up stairs to her room, audonce inside 
and the door closed, threw herself into a chair and gave 
vent to her feelings: She laughed long and laughed 
heartily. Perhaps the reader is already aware that the 
meek little seamstress was Bird Barger in disguise. She 
had heard the Kllsmeres speak of the unhappy domestic 
relations ex^isting in the Tewksburry family, but the 
sight just witnessed surpassed all her expectations. 

When the twilight deepened into darkness, she rose, 
opened the door and peeped cautiously out. No lights 
had been lit in the halls and the darkness was impene- 
trable. She stepped out, walked stealthily along to the 
stairs and listened. No sound could be heard below. 
Carefully descending the stairs she groped her way 
along the lower passage listening at each door for voices. 
Placing her ear at a keyhole in a door of a room at the 


FAY BANNING. 


247 


rear end of the hall, she hears voices within, conversing 
in low but earnest tones. 

“ Gita glim, Ceal,” were the fir.st audible words she 
caught. She recognized the voice to be that of the 
Colonel. 

need any, ’ ’ was the reply. Bird now pressed her 

ear tightly against the key-hole and listened. 

“ When did she start Hazel ? ” 

“Last .“ 

“About what time reach Orleans ? “ 

“ Well, I exactly know.” 

“ Does Fern Fay ? ” 

“ No, not.” 

She now hears some one coming toward the door, and 
runs back noiselessly to the stairs, pauses after ascending 
a few steps, then peers over the banister. Some one leaves 
the room, but there being no light inside, she cannot see 
who it is. The person passes through the hall to the 
front door and quietly leaves the house. A flood of light 
is now thrown across the hall through the open door from 
whence the person came. Fearing her position unsafe, 
she carefully ascends the stairs, pausing at the top and 
listening, waits — not long — for the hall door opens again 
and a voice says: “ In that door where you see the 
light.” Bird breathlessly stoops and peeps over the ban- 
ister again. What is her horror when she beholds her 
own much dreaded husband enter the door, followed by 
Celia, who quickly closes it — and then she hears the click 
of the bolt as it shoots into the lock — and now the con- 
spirators are closeted and safe from intrusions. She rises, 
and stifling, staggers back and sinks to the floor. Has 
her ruse failed and she been identified ? Varied are the 
thoughts which cross her mind. Summoning all her 
strength and courage, she rises, finds her way back to 
her room, procures her trusty revolver and once more 


248 


FAY BANNING. 


descends the stairs to listen and risk discovery. Her ear 
soon covers the key-hole in the door again. 

The voices are louder than they were when she was 
listening before. 

“Yes,” says Celia, “ we rest on a smoldering volcano. 
A magazine is under us awaiting the match, and some- 
thing must be thrown upon the powder at once to 
dampen it ; yes, a something, if that something be — 
blood!” 

“Haw! haw! haw! ” roared Jim Barger. “Hope it 
won’t be my sap used in the sprinklin’ — though I’m 
aquent to what you’re alludin’. I’m ready for biz agin, 
though that was the dod rottenist scrape, that tother one, 
that I ever got in. Everything goes agin me. I had as 
fair a shot at that cuss as I ever had in my life and didn’t 
the ornery bullet j-i-s-t play over his dazed head, makin’ 
him sort of spooney like, for I heered he’d toss his ant- 
lers in his delirrium and give a bawl for his old girl. I 
tried to scare up a scheme to git into the house, er git 
some one else ter, while he was layin’ at old Chester 
White’s an’ give ’im a dose of salt to finish him, but I 
didn’t make out; wait till I draw another bead on — ” 

‘^Hush!” interrupted Celia, “ not so loud. There is 
a woman in the house who might hear 3"ou.” 

“ Who is it ? ” asked Barger. 

“ A dressmaker,” replied Madame Julia. 

“ A Miss Bird,” answered the C donel. 

“A missed bird?” wonderingly inquired Barger. 
“ Ma^^be its my missed Bird! ” 

“ No^ not unless she is wonderfully metamorphosed,” 
•answered Celia decidedly. “It 2i Miss Bh'd, a seam- 
stress who is working here.” 

“ So your game is in Noo Orlans, or soon will be ? ” 
asked Barger, after his curiosity had subsided. 


FAY BANNING. 


249 


“ Yes,” replied Celia, ” and what is done must be done 
at once. She is likely to leave Iceland’s immediately 
after her arrival there. We must not procrastinate, but 
hasten at once. Time is now a precious article.” 

“When do you propose to start ? ” asked Barger. 

” My disguise is now ready and I am impatient to be 
off immediately. Why, let me see, I — ’ ’ 

” Start to-morrow morning,” suggested Madame Julia. 

“That’s a short warnin’, durned if ithaint,” grumbled 
Barger. 

“ Yes, I could start in the morning. The machination 
is now ripe for the execution,” said Celia. 

“ Temme see,” said Barger, as in a quandery. “I’m 
afeared I can’t git the ole woman togged up to start so 
soon. You see she’s gittin’ purtywimbly. Temme see. 
I can git home by midnight. ’Gin I git marm ready 
it’ll be two o’clock. We’ll have to drive purty slow out 
of the woods, the roads bein’ so rough; gin we git here 
it’ll be four; well, that’ll be soon enough. We will be 
well out of the neighborhood by daylight. I guess I can 
do’er,” he concluded. 

“ Pa — fa — pa will take me to Frankfort and I will stop 
at the Ewell House. Do you know where that is ? ” in- 
quired Celia. 

“Yes.” 

“And there we will meet and decide at what time we 
start and what boat we will take. You will see me dis- 
guised as a nun remember, and our meetings must be 
clandestine.” 

“I’ll recomember.” 

“Aha! ”* thought the listener at the key-hole, “so the 
sheep’s clothing is to cloak a wolf! ” 

“An’ you’re to give me five hundred dollars in spot 
cash in Frankfort?” said Barger, looking well to the 
financial part. 


250 


FAY BANNING. 


“ I promise,” replied Celia. 

‘‘An’ five thousan’ when the circus is out.” 

” Such is the bargain.” 

” What part in the ko-ky po-ky are you takin’, Fat ? ” 
said Barger, addressing himself to the Colonel. 

” Alieml ” responded the Colonel, clearing his throat. 
” None, whatever. Simply quiescent Quite contented, 
though, to ride in fortune’s car, along with the rest.” 

“Humph!” 

“Humph!” were the simultaneous exclamations of 
the women. 

“ Wall, business is business,” said Barger, rising, “ and 
time ” 

The sound waves were no longer arrested at the key- 
hole, for the listener was gone. 

When Bird gained her room she listened and heard her 
evil husband leave the hou.se as silently as he came. 
Throwing. herself upon the bed, she recounted all that 
she had heard. • Jim Barger, accompanied by his mother 
and Celia, were going in search of Fay Banning. “ Surely 
her life is in danger,” thought Bird. 

The clock on the mantel struck ten. She rose and, 
throwing a shawl about her shoulders, for the night was 
chilly, once more sallied forth, locking the door after her. 
In a distant part of the house below, could be heard some 
stir as of preparations for the night journey. She stealth- 
ily crept down stairs, tried the frontdoor, and to her joy 
found it unlocked. Forth into the night hurried the in- 
trepid little woman. Reaching the highway without any 
molestation, she directed her flying footsteps toward the 
Kllsmere home. Once a nighthawk flew across the road 
before her with a shrill scream, but thanks to her moun- 
taineer life, she was not afraid. 

“ Has Miss Clay retired yet ? ” was her interrogation 
to the astonished maid servant who answered her call at 
the side door of The Gables. 


FAY BANNING. 


251 


“ No, not yit, honey,” replied the girl, stepping back 
and suspiciously regarding her from head to foot, with 
the aid of the dim light afforded by a lamp hanging at 
the far end of the hall. 

“I wish to see her; may I come in ?” impatiently asked 
Bird, who did not wdsh to enter without an invitation lest 
the frightened creature w^ould consider her a dangerous 
character and give an alarm. 

” Dun — no,” faltered the girl, “can’t you stay dar till 
I call Miss Bertha ?” 

“Yes,” quickly replied Bird, hoping thus to avoid 
delay. 

The girl closed the door, locked it, and hurried away 
in search of Miss Bertha. 

Bird did not wait long before the door opened again 
and Bertha peeped cautiously out. 

“It’s Bird. Tet me in, quick 1'’ 

“I suspected it was you,” said Bertha, opening the 
door. “ Why, dear child, w'hat in the world has brought 
you back at this hour? Were .you found out? Come in.” 

“No,” replied Bird entering the hall. “ But / have 
found out all /wish to. But first, how is Mrs. Ellsmere?” 

“Quite poorly,” replied Bertha, gravely, but she is 
soundly sleeping now under the influence of an opiate. 
Come to my room where you can tell me what has 
happened.” 

“And Mr. Ellsmere — Arthur?” I intended it to do for 
both when I asked how his mother was, but I guess you 
didn’t understand me.” 

“Oh, he is just wild because they won’t permit him to 
start in pursuit of those girls who found him on that 
dreadful night. He firmly believes one of them to be 
Fay, and I think he is right. He is just raving to-night, 
but the doctors tell us he will speedily recover ; but I 
fear it was all wrong to move him home so soon. It had 


252 


FAY BANNING. 


to be done, though, on his mother’s account. Poor aunt 
Mary 1” and the loving girl wiped the tears from her eyes. 

“We are forgetting ourselves, and I am losing time. 
Come,” said Bird, taking her arm. 

When they had seated themselves before the fire in 
Bertha’s room, Bird began with : “I have been eaves- 
dropping more or less ever since I entered the house, but 
heard nothing of note until to-night. To-day came 
Tewksburry. To-night came Jim Barger, and they all 
held a meetin’ an’ I listened at the key-hole an’ — ” 

“But first tell me,” interrupted Bertha, “how you 
succeeded as a seamstress.” 

“ Very well. I’ll tell you more about that when I tell 
you what I heard. To cut a long story short. Fay is in 
New Orleans.” 

“Possible !” 

“ Yes, an’ to night Jim Barger, the old woman, an’ I 
fear Celia, start in search of her to kill her.” 

“O, merciful heavens!” cried Bertha, starting up in 
terror and drawing her chair closer to Bird. “ Did you 
hear them say that?” 

“ Not exactly ; but why do they search for her in dis- 
guise, if not to do her harm ?” reasoned Bird. 

“True, true,” murmured Bertha, leaning forward and 
gazing into the fire with a troubled face. 

She was thoughtful for a moment, then turning to Bird, 
said: “And what are we to do? We must not tell 
Arthur one word of this. His life depends on his peace 
of mind. But must we sit with folded hands and witness 
such work ? What shall we do, oh what shall we do to 
thw^art their fiendish work ?” 

And the poor troubled girl rocked to and fro, moaning 
and wringing her hands.” 

“Stop that!” said the other chidingly. “Do you think 
Bird Barger has been brought up in the woods to be skairt 


FAY BANNING. 


253 


at owls ? I had it all cut and dried for ’em before I started 
over here.” 

Bertha ceased her moaning and earnestly gazed at the 
resolute w^oman who seemed thoroughly absorbed with 
some plan of action. 

‘‘ Time is precious and words are scarce with me, 
so I’ll give you my plan in a few homely backwoods 
words and begone again. 

” It is this,” said Bird, rising to add stress to her words: 
” I must go back, enter the house if possible without being 
seen. If I am, I’ll feign sickness and say I had thought 
a walk in the air good for me. You write a letter saying 
that my mother, Melinda Bird, is dying, and to hasten 
with all speed to her home, which is in Centerville. I 
will have them send a boy with me there. Then I wi 1 
hire some one there to carry me to Frankfort, where I 
will don male attire and follow these knaves, find Fay, 
and spoil their little game. What think you of this plan?’ ’ 

“Capital!” cried Bertha, springing up and throwing 
her arms around the brave woman. “ But can you do 
it ? Oh, I am afraid 3^011 can’t !” 

“ I am willing to try it. But can you give me money 
for my expenses ?’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Bertha starting up, “how much?” 

“I’ll take aplenty. Five hundred, quick! Bring it 
to the hall door.” 

“ God bless you,” fervently murmured Bertha, when 
she had kissed Bird farewell at the outer door and then 
watched her disappear in the darkness. 

On her way back. Bird met a carriage, but the night 
was too dark to see who the occupants were. She sup- 
posed it to be Celia and her father. Arriving at the door, 
to her dismay, she found it locked. 

Now arose another difficulty. How could she gain an 
entrance without discovery? Madame Julia must not 


254 


FAY BANNING. 


know that she was out at this particular time lest she 
suspect her to be a spy, and send a messenger to warn 
Celia. She sat down on the piazza steps and cogitated, 
but no way out of the difficulty presented itself. She 
only started up when a horse came galloping down the 
road. 

“ Bertha’s messenger,” she said, “and here I am with- 
out my lady’s walls.” 

A new thought of action now struck her. She glided 
down the pathway and hid at a safe distance from the 
gate. The rider soon stopped, dismounted, fastened his 
horse, and hurried toward the house. Bird stole forth 
from her lurking place, glided out of the gate, unfastened 
the animal and led him into the 5^ard and up to within a few 
feet of the piazza steps. The horse’s tread on the velvety 
lawn could be heard no distance away. 

The door-bell rang and the call was answered in a 
wonderfully short space of time. 

“ Who’s there ?” called. the voice of Madame Julia. 

The darky had been instructed to give no name. 

“I has a letter dat mus’ be handed to Miss Bird to 
wonce,” replied the messenger. 

The door now cautiously opened and Bird urged the 
horse a little nearer to the piazza. The darky handed 
Madame Julia the letter just as the horse gave a loud 
snort and went scampering away across the lawn — the 
more rapid because of the smart application he received — 
thereby endangering the shrubbery, the flowers, and 
the statuaries. 

“You fool!” screamed Madame Julia, pouncing out 
upon the terrifled negro, “ to bring that horse onto my 
lawn !” 

The negro went scampering away, while Madame Julia 
followed him a few steps down the path, showering hies- 


FAY BANNING. 


255 


sings on him — her benedictions not spiritual, but partak- 
ing of a more temporal nature. 

In the meantime Bird had quietly crept up to the end 
of the piazza. Now, noiselessly as the daylight steals 
o’er the eastern hill-tops on the heels of the night, stole 
she softly across the piazza and in through the open door,- 
pausing inside to listen and see if she had been discovered. 
Naught could be heard but the violent imprecations 
showering down on the sable gentleman outside — now 
very conspicuous for his absence. Up, up, up the broad 
winding stairs flew Bird — not a nightingale, nor a martin, 
nor a pewit, nor a snipe — but a mischievous parrot. Once 
more safely within her door, how the wood-nymph 
laughed 1 

Soon the noise ceased on the parterre below, and soon 
followed a light rap on her door. ‘ ‘ I must be so sound 
asleep,” she said. 

“ Miss Bird I” called Madame Julia. 

A loud snore was the only answer. 

” Miss Bird !” 

Still no response. 

Miss Bird! Mi.ss Bird! Miss Bird! etc.,” accompanied 
wnth loud rappings. Now she pauses, places her ear to 
the the door and listens. She hears a terrific snore as of 
the one breaking the chain of slumber. Then follows a 
noise and jar as of the roof falling in. Miss Bird has 
fallen out of bed! 

“ Miss Bird, open the door, quick!” anxiously cries 
Madame Julia. 

The door now opens and Miss Bird appears, with a 
great ‘ ‘ Yaw — aw! ’ ’ opening her mouth nearly wide 
enough to swallow Madame Julia, and stretching sleepily. 

“ What a sound sleeper you are! Gaping and stretch- 
ing and growing like a young pig! ” impatiently ex- 
claimed Madame Julia, with a touch of sarcasm. 


‘25G 


i?AY BANNING. 


“Yes; Yaw — aw! I was dreaming I was with a 
swine-herd,” replied Bird. 

Madame Julia took the repartee with a wince and 
handed her the letter saying; “ Here is a letter brought 
by a special messenger to you and it must be of 
great importance. And the scamp,” she added, with 
great indignation, “ rode his horse across my lawn; and 
to cap the climax the animal got loose and ran pawing 
and snorting over the lawn and there is no telling what 
damage he has done. This has been a very unpropitious 
night in this family. My husband and daughter were 
very unexpectedly called away and I am now alone. 
Wonder what will occur next.” 

By this time Bird had torn open the seal of her letter 
and was reading. Scanning a few sentences, she threw 
up her hands, crying: “Oh, my mother! my poor 
mother! what shall I do, what shall I do.” 

“Why, my dear child, what is the matter with your • 
mother!” exclaimed Madame Julia, starting back and 
nearly dropping the light in her astonishment. 

“Oh, take me to my poor mother! Take me to my 
poor mother!” was all poor Polly Parrot could sa3^ 

“And your home is in Centreville ?” anxiously in- 
quired Madame Julia, not wholly void of humanity. 

“ Yes, take me to my poor mother! my poor mother! ” 

Madame Julia now turned away saying: “Get ready 
to go while I call a servant to take you,” and hastened 
down stairs, while Bird, nearly convulsed with laughter 
at her own chicanery, dressed herself for her journey. 

“ Do you know the road to Centreville, Cap’n,” asked 
Bird of the driver, as they were leaving the gate. 

“ O, golly Ned! I reckon I does” answered the driver 
with much suavity of manners. “It are on de same 
road dat takes you to Frankfort. Git along thar, 
Mandy.” 


FAY BANNING. 


257 


And giving the animal a crack with the whip, they 
were soon jogging along at a lively trot. The night soon 
grew so intensely dark that they could travel but slowly. 
When they had gone some fifteen miles they began to 
hear mutterings of distant thunder along the western 
skies. Though late in the season for thunder storms, 
yet one seemed brewing. The darkness increased, the 
wind began blowing, hurrying up great masses of inky- 
black clouds from the west, and the thunders rolled long, 
deep and loud. 

Soon the storm burst upon them in all its fury — the 
wind blowing the rain in great sheets into their faces. 
The horse reluctant to go further, moved but slowly. 
Presently Bird discovered a faint light glimmering from 
a habitation near the roadside, and told the driver to hold 
the horse while she sought shelter for them from the 
storm. She alighted and stepped knee-deep into a water- 
hole. 

“ Co’n cakes an’ dodgersl” ejaculated the driver, “has 
3^011 landed yet ?” 

“ No; but I guess the shore isn’t far off,’’ faintl}' came 
the answer back. 

When Bird emerged from the waters she cautiously 
appoached the dwelling, which proved to be a negro 
cabin and gave a loud rap on the door. The occupants 
were not aroused by the first rap, nor the second, but the 
third, made with her chubby little fists, was followed by 
the creaking of boards in the attic floor, giving evidence 
that some darky had been brought back from slumber- 
land. 

“ Dinah 1 Dinah!” yelled a shrill voice from the loft, 
“ Hey you, Dinah, down dar ! ” 

Then followed a short silence, the rain beginning to fall 
harder. Evidently “Dinah” had not shaken off her 
heaviness. 


258 


FAY BANNING. 


“Dinah! Dinah!” 

This time the call seemed strong enough to raise the 
roof. 

A sudden jar below now proved that “Dinah ” had at 
last escaped from the god of dreams and had come back 
to wakefulness. 

“What yo’ want ?” snarled Dinah. 

“Somebody’s knockin’ on de doah? ” was the reply. 

“ Who’s dar!” called Dinah, through a crack in the 
door. 

“A belated traveler, a woman, drenched with rain. 
Will you please give me shelter ?” asked Bird. 

“I say you, Pompey, come down' heah!’’ called 
“ Dinah,” to the man aloft. “ I haint gwine to let in a 
stranger dout some one with me. Who knows but it is an 
Injun waitin’ for my har! ” 

After a reasonable space of time the door swung open 
and Bird stepped fearlessly into the low room where stood 
a dozen negroes, old and young, armed with brooms, 
sticks of wood, etc. At the sight of the poor bedraggled 
creature, all weapons of warfare were dropped. 

Bird and her coachman passed the night in the negro 
cabin, and at a very early hour resumed their journey. 
At noon they arrived at Centreville, the suppo.sed desti- 
nation. Here Bird dismissed the darky. She then 
proceeded to a coffee house, got a lunch, then hired a 
chaise and was soon speeding along toward Frankfort. 
At two o’clock her heart gave a joyful bound when she 
beheld the city not a mile distant. Once in the city, she 
proceeded directly to a gents' furnishing house where she 
gave her orders for a complete outfit of male attire, giving 
necessary dimensions to obtain a good fit. The worthy 
young clerk who waited her orders, at first regarded her 
half suspicious, half scandalized, but the honest express- 
ion of her face quite allayed his fears and inspired his 


i^AY BANNING. 


259 


confidence. He filled the order without annoying ques- 
tions. Her shopping finished, she next proceeded to a 
barber shop, where she had her hair cut close, the bar- 
ber the while deploring her loss of the raven locks. She 
next sought a hotel and engaged a room. Then began 
the transformation. An hour later she came forth as 
from a chrysalis metamorphosed into a man, or boy 
rather, with sunny brown hair instead of “raven locks, 
soft blue e3^es, a rich peachy complexion enlivened by 
the dark blue clothes and crush blue hat set on one side 
of her head with a jaunty grace — in fact a real little dandy, 
at whom the ladies glanced a second time, as they passed. 

A visit to the Kwell House revealed the fact that her 
birds had flown. She then hastened to the boat landing, 
where she found a boat had left two hours before, on 
which, no doubt, her adversaries had taken passage. 
Another boat would leave at seven o’clock. It was now 
five. She must impatiently wait, wait, wait. How the 
time dragged as she walked slowly back and forth on the 
pier. But at last the captain shouted “ aM aboard,” and 
then our brave and handsome little man sailed away, 
hoping to overtake the advance party at Carrollton. 


CHAPTER XX. 

When Fay left the Feland home, disheartened and 
friendless, she found a drayman and engaged him to 
transfer her trunks to the pier-landing, whither she bent 
her footsteps. How her heart ached as she sat down on 
a seat quite removed from public view at the end of the 
pier, to decide where to go or w’hat to do to earn her 
bread. She had barely fifty dollars, which would keep 
her but a short time, and she must seek employment im- 
mediately — though far away from New Orleans where 
she would not be likely to meet those acquainted with 
her history. Her mind first dwelt on the shameful and 
false scandal that was driving her into exile. Alas, not 
one friend had she now to give her a kind word of en- 
couragement, or a tender smile that would beguile her 
sorrow for but one moment. But Fern she felt would not 
believe the cruel story. Oh, could she but have seen the 
genial and frolicsome little creature who had been so like 
a sunbeam in her cloudy life, dispelling gloom when it 
seemed ready to engulf her — to kiss her farewell. 

As she sat there thinking only of her misery, she gazed 
into the water and thought how one plunge would end 
all her sorrow. She instantly recoiled from the wicked 
thought and asked forgiveness of Him who is the lord of 
life and death, who alone can decree the proper time for 
trials of sorrowing mortals to end. 

“ How wicked,” she thought, “to be sitting here be- 
moaning misfortune when He promises in His word that 
the ‘ Righteous shall not be forsaken.’ How inconsist- 
ant I am to become discouraged at what w^ould be trifles 
no doubt for some. I will bear my cross and lament no 
more.” 

260 


FAY BANNING. 


261 


Glancing up, she beheld a Sister of Charity, in her 
black vestment, standing by the pier-railing close by, her 
eyes fixed on a crucifix that she was holding in her hand 
and her lips moving as in prayer. Though not of her 
faith, yet Fay gazed at the holy woman with respect, 
and in her loneliness longed to speak to her. thinking to 
receive in return a word of cheer. 

The Sister now turned her face toward Fay. Their eyes 
met and Fay was startled with the strange likeness that 
the face bore to one she has seen far away among the 
hills of Kentucky. The Sister now turned and walked 
away. Fay’s desire to speak with her had fled. 

She now began to think of plans for the future. After 
a few minutes council with herself, she concluded to try 
her fortune in St. Fouis. At this moment she discovered 
a boat at her dock and saw people running hither and 
thither, looking after baggage and making ready to get 
on board. 

“ This boat is bound for St. Fouis,” said a man stand- 
ing near her, in answer to an inquiry; She hastened 
away, had her baggage checked, and was soon stemming 
the current of the mighty Mississippi, the “Father of 
Waters.” 

“ Where to? ” asked the clerk, as she presented her- 
self at the window for a ticket. 

“St. Fouis,” was the repty. 

When she had paid her fare, she turned to take a last 
look of the city, and very near her again, but with her 
back turned, was the Catholic Sister with her crucifix, 
going over a mummery of words. Fay felt very uncom- 
fortable and walked away to a distant part of the boat. 

As the autumn weather was now very warm and pleas- 
ant, the passengers, for the most part, strolled or lounged 
on the hurricane deck. 


262 


FAY BANNING. 


Fay wandered about until tired, then sat down apart 
from all others and began to turn various things over in 
her mind which her head and hands might do to earn a 
living after her arrival in the strange city, when two 
gentlemen came and seated themselves quite near her and 
began a conversation which seemed persiflage at first, but 
later became more solid and of such a nature as to attract 
her attention, to which remarks she had given little at- 
tention at first. They were sitting with their backs to 
her, thus affording her the opportunity of carrying on her 
innocent little espionage without interruption. The 
younger, well dressed and of fine physique, though not 
handsome, yet possessing remarkably intellectual fea- 
tures, seemed counseling his elderly companion in regard 
to a business venture. 

“And you think St. Touis a desirable location for this 
enterprise?” asked the younger, lighting a cigar and 
puffing away with infinite satisfaction. 

“Am positive of it,” emphatically replied the elder 
gentleman. “Why, you see,” he continued, “St. Touis 
is already one of the chief centres of the steam navigation 
of the Mississippi, and her splendid location will ulti- 
mately destine her to become the most commanding 
centre of western traffic and influence.” 

‘ ‘ What is the principal article of fabricative production 
there?” 

‘ ‘ Iron ; but there are also numerous flouring mills 
which enjoy high reputation, and large sugar refineries 
which manufacture most of the sugar consumed in the 
Mississippi valley. Then the city is finely built, and 
contains numerous splendid public buildings, among 
them a Roman Catholic University; besides benevolent, 
religious, and social institutions of the highest character, 
in fact all that is needed to meet the requirements of a 
great and enterprising community. 


FAY BANNING. 


263 


“ Is real eastate well up there? I shall want at least 
five acres of ground for the yards and all, and would 
like it near the river. 

“Land is not fabulously high there at present, though 
it is likely to be soon. It is in great demand and valua- 
tion is steadily increasing. Let’s see,” sa’d the elderly 
gentleman, stroking his beard, “the most desirable loca- 
tion that I know of now near the river, would be below 
Kllwood & Co’s mills. Fine location. But — now the 
difficulty arises again. All the ground there is owned by 
Abigail Sutherland, possessing enormous wealth, and by 
the way, she is an old maid and, pardon me sir, the 
strangest freak of nature that tlie Lord ever set up his 
machinery to make! Neither love nor money would in- 
duce her to part with one inch of her territory. So that 
much is settled.” 

The young man laughed at the remark, then was 
thoughtful for a moment. 

“Abigail Sutherland! Abigail Sutherland! ” he re- 
peated slowly. “ Why, sir, that is a familiar name to 
me; an Abigail Sutherland comes to New York every 
summer to visit an aunt of mine. I am not acquainted 
wdth her because of her aversion for men. Who knows 
but this is the same Abigail ? ” he said with quite an in- 
terest, as he tossed his cigar stump overboard. 

“Possibly; for she leaves the city every summer and 
goes off on a tour somewhere. And a gastronomical tour 
I think it is, for she goes away looking about as spare 
as a rye straw and comes back looking as plump as a 
prairie hen.” 

Again the young man laughed. 

“ Through her aflfection for my aunt, I may be able to 
make a bargain with her for her land; if it proves to be 
the Abigail I think it is. Docs she carry her head well 
up ? ” he asked. 


264 


FAY BANNING. 


“ Very high! and arches her neck — so^’ said the old 
gentleman, with a ludicrous attempt to imitate the lady 
under discussion. 

“ The same,” said the young man. 

“ One stiff limb, caught in a railroad smash-up ? ” 

“Exactly.” 

“Sharp voice; sounds like scouring knives.” 

The other thought it did. 

“ Well, that is our Abigail, the Corn Hill Admonisher.” 

“ If I conclude to locate in St. Eouis, I think I will 
venture to call on her,” said the younger. 

“ Queer old girl! queer old girl! ” soliloquized the old 
gentleman. Then again addressing his companion, he 
said; “ I see by the last paper she has advertised for a 
companion. Wants a young lady; must be gocd looking 
(I suppose to remind her of her rose blushes long since 
faded) — accomplished — one not frivolous — must live with 
her a recluse from society and the Lord knows what 
more. ’ ’ 

“That is me!” thought Fay, “now if I can only 
learn where she resides!” 

‘ ‘ Where does she exist — in case I conclude to call ?’ ’ 
inquired the young man. 

“ She flourishes in a part of the city vulgarly known 
to every one as Corn Hill. No. 18 Maple Street, I think 
is her residence. I live in that locality but do not even 
dare to learn her number. You get up there and you 
will not have to wait long to hear of her. She is best 
known, however, to the boys and dogs.” 

No. 18 Maple Street, Corn Hill, Abigail Sutherland, 
was what Fay jotted down on a slip of paper. 

Our friends now rose and sauntered away, leaving Fay 
buoyed up with a new hope — her only fear that the 
“ Corn Hill ” amazon might find a companion before she 
could reach there. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


“ Can you tell me in which of these houses Miss 
Sutherland resides!” asked Fay of a group of urchins 
romping on the walk in front of a fine and stately resi- 
dence, nestled among lofty elms, on Maple Street, in St. 
lyouis. 

The children paused in their play and looked wonder- 
ingly at the sweet-faced girl standing before them, as if 
marveling whether their ears had not played them false. 

A bold looking boy, ragged and dirty, who seemed to 
be leader of the tumultuous crowd, advanced, and after 
drawing his sleeve across his face, in the absence of a 
handkerchief, asked: 

“ Does yer mean Miss Abigail, mum ?” 

“ Miss Abigail Sutherland is the lady’s name whom I 
wish to find,” replied Fay, looking benignly on the little 
King. 

” Ho! ho! ho! ” laughed one, “ who ever heard of any- 
one going to see Miss Abigill before ?” ” W’y yer can’t 

find her for she rode away on the cow that jumped over 
the moon t’other day!” boisterously laughed another. 
“ She’s got whiskers!” ^‘She sleeps standing 1” “Voice 
like a dinner horn!” “Bats nails and spikes!” 

Fay now walked away, not caring to hear any more of 
the jocose and disrespectful figures of speech the saucy 
children applied to Miss Abigail, but began wondering 
if she really was the ogress that people regarded her. A 
nurse girl now came wheeling a carriage along, and Fay 
once more ventured to ask where Miss Abigail resided. 

“ Right in thar,” said the girl, pointing to the mansion 
among the elms. 


265 


266 


FAY BANNING. 


Fay looked now at the palace among the trees, which 
stood well back from the street — ^justthe place for a tried 
and retired mortal like Miss Abigail — and decided that 
the proprietress vras a person of exquisite taste and could 
not be void of refinement, however eccentric. The 
greenhouse beyond the mansion, which stood on an is- 
land decorated with ornamental grasses and ferns, waving 
and dipping their tips in the crystal waters of the niina- 
ture lake, plants natural to warmer climes, ar.d piles of 
white pebbly rocks over which crept creeping vines, 
swans floating lazily on the water, occasionally dipping 
down, all looked to Fay like the imaginary fairylands of 
which she had dreamed when a child. A gardener, 
busil}^ engaged, seemed to be potting plants for winter. 

After she had thanked the darky for the desired in- 
formation, she lifted the latch of the gate and tremblingly 
entered the forbidden grouiids. ‘ 

“ Git yer head taken off!” “More business now for 
the undertaker !“ shouted the rabble in the street. 

Fay, unmindful of their warning cries, walked softly 
along toward the house, and without one bit of courage 
but with a great deal of desperation, crept up the broad 
steps as carefully as if reconnoitering the entrance to the 
denofaNumidian lion and rang the bell. While waiting 
for her call to be answered, she turned and looked toward 
the street. Among the passing pedestrians was a Cath- 
olic Sister walking very slowly along, the sight of which 
sent a thrill over her on account of the strange uneasiness 
she had experienced in meeting the one on the pier and 
again on the boat. 

The door now opened with a jerk and Fay unexpect- 
edly stood in the presence of the virago of whom every- 
body stood in awe, without a moment’s preparation to 
meet her. 


FAY BANNING. 


267 


“Come in,” said Miss Abigail sharply, opening wide 
the door for Fay to enter. 

That process gone through with. Miss Abigail stepped 
to a side door near the main entrance of the hall so 
quickly, so nimbly — the stiff limb not seeming to retard 
locomotion — that poor Fay was not afforded time or given 
an opportunity to exchange a greeting, and pushing it 
open said as sharply as before: “ Go in.” 

The trembling girl obeyed, her embarassment increas- 
ing. 

“ Sit down!” was the next command of Miss Abigail, 
as she wheeled a chair toward her. 

Fay sat down and the drill was perfected. 

A glance about her proved that the house was lavishly 
furnished, and a glance at Miss Abigail, who was now 
regarding the newcomer with an eye single to criticism, 
proved to Fay’s mind that she was indeed a most phe- 
nomenal woman. 

Fler face possessed nothing indeed of that sentimental 
and aesthetic beauty which sculptors have handed down 
from Greek days as the ideal feminine face. But the 
features w^ere strong and hard, almost cruel, the nose 
sharp, indicating inquisitiveness, the tips of the cheek 
bones accentuated, the chin sharp and extending in the 
same direction with the nose ; the gray eyes, furtive, 
watchful and suspicious, were set well back under 
bony gables; the preceptive lines above them had been 
taxed until they were deep furrows. The bumps on the 
head indicating reasoning powers and resolution were 
finely developed, while the swelling on either side of the 
upper story, supposed to suggest imagination, had been 
omitted. The hair was brown and beginning to turn 
gray. She was tall, and though not stoutly built, was 
muscular and wiry. Her dress was a plain, neatly fitting 
woolen fabric short in the extreme, enabling her as she 


268 


FAY BANNING. 


later remarked to Fay, “to bob around lively.” No 
rings embellished the fingers, no diamonds flashed in 
brooch or hair. Such was the appearance of Miss Abi- 
gail Sutherland, the arch enemy to the dogs and children 
of Corn Hill. 

“ And so you’ve come to answer my advertisement?” 
said she, after her curiosity had been satisfied, as she 
seated herself beside a delicate rose, full of rich pink 
blossoms which gave off a perfume, fleeting and sweeter 
than Araby’s breezes. 

“ Yes’m; and I trust I am not too late,” replied Fay, 
her voice slightly tremulous. 

“Ugh!” was Miss Abigail’s only reply as she raised 
her head and peered sharply out of the window toward 
the street, as if half expecting to see some one encroach- 
ing, which Fay was glad to see, as it enabled her to 
observe Miss Abigail more closely, without embarass- 
ment or offense. Miss Abigail contined her watch so 
long that Fay, to break it, ventured to ask if she was the 
first applicant. 

“ Bah! a half dozen at least have come and gone,” re- 
plied Miss Abigail, without removing her eyes from the 
street. 

Fay’s courage now entirely left her and she resolved 
to abandon the chase and leave the house at the first op- 
portunity. 

“ All flirts though,” added Miss Abigail after a pain- 
ful suspense, shifting her eyes and setting them quizically 
on the sorrowful face of the girl whom she was torturing 
by her strange conduct. Fay made no response but 
calmly awaited the result of the interview. 

“Where are you from ?” snarled Miss Abigail. 

“ From New Orleans,” was the meek reply. 

‘ ‘ Come all that distance thinking to screw j^ourself in 
here?” 


FAY banning* 


269 


Fay was so affected by the unkind question that she 
made no reply, and began to devise plans of escape. 

“ Place this rug under your feet. You’ve been travel- 
ing and I’m afraid you will soil the carpet,” was Miss 
Abigail’s next unkind cut as she trailed a rug up to Fay. 

. As Fay set her feet on the proffered rug she thought 
how well deserved was Miss Abigail’s odious reputation, 
and wondered, too, if she would escape without serious 
bodily injury ; and if there were any hospitals near that 
she might enter in case her wounds were serious. 

“ Your name ?” asked Miss Abigail taking a standing 
posture directly before her. 

” Fay Banning.” 

“Ugh!” groaned Miss Abigail, stepping closer and 
reaching out her hand said: ‘‘Papers of recommendation?” 

” I have none,” said Fay, for the first time realizing 
the need of any. 

”0 Lord, all the distance from New Orleans and with- 
out the scratch of a pen to say you are not a profligate !” 
cried Miss Abigail. And she covered her face with her 
hands and sat down flat upon the floor. 

Fay made an attempt to leave the room, but Miss Abi- 
gail caught her by the dress and motioned her back to 
her seat. 

Fay, frightened half out of her senses, dared not disobey. 

Miss Abigail rose and walked back and forth for a few 
moments with her sharp nose high in the air, then sud- 
denly wheeled around in front of Fay and said: ‘‘Why 
didn’t you bring papers?” 

“I didn’t think of needing them, and more, I could 
not have gotten any if I had asked for them.” 

“Well, I never ! You are the first truthful person I 
ever metl” cried the tartar, throwing up her hands. 

“I will give you my history, then perhaps you may be 
ready to let me go,” said Fay, hopeful of escape. 


270 


I'AY BANNING. 


“ Don t want your history. How would I know it was 
truth ?” 

“Well, then, ma}^ I go please?” pleaded Fay, rising. 

“No.” 

“ I do not understand you. Miss Sutherland,” said Fay, 
her eyes dimming with tears. 

“ Tut, tut, baby ! I knew you were silly, but I didn’t 
think the flood gates could be lifted so easily. There, 
stop crying!” 

And the rider of the cow that jumped over the moon, 
the whiskered lady, the nail and spike eater, this woman 
who slept standing, this strangest of monstrosities that 
the lyord had ever set up his machinery to make, threw 
her arms around Fay’s neck and covered the tear-stained 
face with passionate kisses as she led her to a sofa, and 
pushing her down upon it said : “ Now, my pretty angel, 
when you can dry your tears yon may tell old cross Abi- 
gail Sutherland, whom everybody hates, your story, if 
you care to. But you needn’t. Your face speaks it. It 
is written there. Abigail sees. Abigail knows.” 

The sudden change in Miss Abigail’s bearing, the en- 
dearing words for which Fay 'was so hungry, made her 
weep the harder — from unspeakable joy — as she kissed 
the hand of the one who had lifted the heavy load from 
her soul. Night had suddenly turned into day. ' How 
Fay loved that old maid. How sweet, how mellifluous 
now was the voice that had been likened unto the blast of 
the dinner horn, and which did seem a little sharp and 
rasping at first. 

That ev^ening, in Miss Abigail’s gilded parlor. Fay re- 
lated the events to that prim lady that had aU but blasted 
her life. Miss Abigail took notes and names as the story 
progressed, and when Fay had concluded she rose and 
strode rapidly up and down the room with her nose poised 


FAY BANNING. 


271 


high in the air, and only ceased her gallop when she had 
exhausted*her breath. 

“The vampires shall die by slow fire 1“ she hissed as 
she threw herself down upon the sofa. “ Go to the piano 
and play — play something lively or I shall die of spon- 
taneous combustion,” she commanded, shaking her 
hands. 

Fay quickly obeyed. She started off with a catchy 
little dance air, and smiled as she heard Miss Abigail 
treading the measures behind her, unmindful of her stiff- 
ened joint. Fay next rendered a pensive noctu 7 'ne. 
Thinking she heard a sob she turned her head and looked 
back To her surprise Miss Abigail sat on the sofa 
weeping. Fay ceased playing and hastened to her side, 
saying “Dear Miss Sutherland, what is the matter! 
Has my dreadful music caused you grief?” 

“Go away?” screamed the sobbing woman, pushing 
her back. “ I hate hou, you handsome witch, and oh, 
how I love you I Can’t express my feelings. Mixed up 
like, laugh and cr3^ Go away, I say ! Aren’t you 
ashamed to make Abigail Sutherland, the shrew of Corn 
Hill, weep like this ? I shall melt into tears, I know I 
shall. Go away, I say I ” 

Fay let her have her wish, and was about to withdraw 
from the room when Miss Abigail called ; “Come back 
here, or I’ll have 3^011 made into a pot-pie 1 ” 

“ Your love affair is quite co-incident with one I lived 
through,” said Miss Abigail, becoming calm when Fay 
had once more seated herself beside her “ Toved once, 
too. Am troubled sometimes lest it is not all out of my 
system yet. Yes. Was all absorbed in it. ’Twas way 
back among the hills of New York. We rode. We boat- 
ed ’mong the lily pads. We swung neath the old apple 
tree. We walked among the roses. We attended balls 
and danced together, I in low neck and short sleeves, and 


272 


I^AY BANNING. 


he ill claw-hammer, spike-tail and low-cut vest. It is 
past. He bowed down before other idols. • I hate the 
men !” she said, viciously pounding the cushions at her 
side. 

Next morning Miss Abigail walked with Fay over the 
grounds around the house, which were enclosed on all 
sides, except in front, by a high wall, which, she said, 
was not to keep people out so much as to keep people in 
that she might catch them and give them a good bump- 
ing, which pleased her much when she caught them tres- 
passing. Fay observed that Miss Abigail’s chief delight 
was in frightening people, though she meant no harm. 

They visited the stables where were kept some of the 
finest horses that Fay had ever beheld. 

“ I keep them in condition,” said Miss Abigail, ” that 
when I choose to ride, I can go like the, wind. This 
horse,” she said, patting a white pony, “shall be at your 
command so long as you ride like lightning. It must be 
done to keep up my reputation as a furious rider And 
if you don’t run over and kill as many as two a day, you 
cannot ride behind my horses ! See that hospital up 
yonder?” she said, pointing to an imposing edifice in 
the distance. “That institution is maintained by me 
solely. Have I not a perfect right to crack a few bones?” 

Fay smiled as she replied that her rights seemed un- 
questionable. 

“Now,” said Miss Abigail, as they started to the 
house, ‘ ‘ you shall share my home and my griefs. I am 
rich as a Jew. Money you shall have, all that you can 
use. But you shan’t flirt around with a bismuth-and- 
rouge-powered visage to catch beaus !” she exclaimed, 
turning fiercely upon Fay. 

“ Please give yourself no uneasiness Miss Sutherland!” 
exclaimed Fay, nearly jumping out of her shoes with 
fright. “ I am no coquette.” 


FAY BANNING. 


273 


“And,” continued Miss Abigail, mollifying her austere 
tones, ‘ ‘ the servants shall wait your orders. I don’t keep 
niggers, as you see. The gardener Ike, the hostler, 
Kmily, the cook, and Dora, that girl who waited on you, 
comprise my livery. They shall step to your music as 
to mine. I pay them well for it. And now Miss Ban- 
ning, — Miss Fay, — I thitik we will get on finely. We will 
live as one. Be one. But,” she 'said, stopping stock 
still in her tracks, “ I want it distinctly understood that 
I — am — the — one 

Fay understood. 

Miss Abigail now stooped low and peered under the 
trees in the direction of the greenhouse. 

“ I hear some one in the pears beyond the greenhouse, 
I believe,” she said. “ Hark!” 

She then dropped down, laid her ear to the ground 
like an old trapper and listened. 

Convinced of the truth that there was ‘ ‘some one in the 
pears,” she rose and told Fay to follow her, and see with 
what adroitness she managed the boys. Miss Abigail 
ran back to the stables, procured a stout stick, and then 
sallied along the back wall with the agility of a cat. Fay 
trying in vain to keep up with the brave cavalier march- 
ing merrily and “ double quick,” off to the wars. 

When Miss Abigail arrived at a distance at which to re- 
connoitre the foraging party, she paused behind an ever- 
green and awaited the arrival of the rear guard. 

‘ ‘ There are four in the crowd — one in the tree and 
three on the ground!” she whispered, when Fay came up 
panting for breath. “Now listen and you will hear some 
music. Don’t smile for I maintain it is music. All 
sounds are music if made in time. This shall be made in 
time and beaten well. The caterwaulings of two cats is 
music if the cats are at the proper distance and at the 
right angle. So I am told. But here goes!” 


274 


FAY BANNING. 


Then away fled the bellicose woman to either catch or 
put to flight the little thieves. 

The boys were busily filling their pockets with the 
rich, ripe fruit and watching in the direction of the house 
for the expected coming of Miss Abigail, when she nearly 
caught one of them by the collar. The boys on the 
ground fled to the wall but alas* for the one in the tree. 
Fay wished in her heart that he, too, might escape. 

“ Now for a flagellation, my little vagabond 1 ” cried 
Miss Abigail, shaking her cudgel menacingly at the poor 
little frightened wretch in the tree. 

“ O, Miss Gabinbill below! Shure an’ it was not me 
that stole thim paches! It waz the b’y that leptthe fince 
foorst! ” 

“ Come down here ycu wild Irishman. You have been 
stealing from me all summer!” 

“Shure Iwoozn’t sthalin’ mum!” he cried in piteous 
tones. 

“What! You young liar! What are you up there 
for?” 

“ I clem up here, mum, because it was soightly.” 

Fay now came up and attempted to plead his case; but 
in vain. 

“Go git a goon an’ kill the ould baste!” cried the 
bo)^ in the tree to his companions who were now safely 
over the wall, when he saw that Miss Abigail was inex- 
orable. 

The hostler hearing the noise, now appeared on the 
scene. 

“Ike,” cried Miss Abigail, “ Go get me the gun! I’ll 
shoot him and throw him into the lake !” 

The boy, not ready to depart this life, began slowly 
to descend. When he reached the lower branches, he 
suddenly dropped the remaining distance, hoping to con- 
fuse the enemy by the unexpected movement . and during the 



FAY BANNING. 


m 


moment’s excitement which would be likely to follow, he 
could get a start for the wall, and possibly make his 
escape. No sooner had he struck the ground than Miss 
Abigail’s strong hands were locked in his sandy hair. 
The young man’s maneuvering proved very unsuccessful. 
She raised him up and with a triumphant look started 
with him in the direction of the lake, her hands still in 
his hair, locked so firmly that the boy, to alleviate the 
pain, pushed his head against her hands and thus made 
the journey to the water on tip-toe. 

Steal my pears ?” screamed Miss Abigail, pausing on 
the brink to allow the culprit time to make his peace 
before he was consigned to the waters. 

Fay thought Miss Abigail only intended to thoroughly 
frighten him to repentance and followed after them, 
pleading for her not to throw him in, while Ike stood 
back, screaming* with laughter. 

A splash and a plunge told of Miss Abigail’s deter- 
mination. 

“ Couldn’t drown him. Swim like a duck,” whispered 
she to Fay, who was trembling with fright. 

The boy did not sink beneath the surface, but boldly 
struck out for the island, which was reached after a few 
strokes. 

Miss Abigail sprang into a boat and paddled for the 
island. When she landed the young criminal took to 
the water again and in safety reached the shore. He 
dragged himself up out of the water by catching hold of 
some grass, then sprang to his feet, turned and threw a 
kiss at Fay, saying: ” Good-bye, me angel, may hiven 
bless yel” Then turning to Miss Abigail, who had re- 
embarked, placed his thumb on his nose and whirling 
his fingers, cried: “It’s the divil’s own ye are an’ he’ll 
wan day roast yer whiskers!” 

“Catch him, Ike!” shouted Miss Abigail, 


276 


FAY BANNING. 


Ike gave chase, respondent to the orders of his mis- 
tress, but too late-, for the lad was soon over the wall with 
his companions, relating his adventures and cheering for 
“ the sweet lady in black.” 

The exercises of the morning were closed by a walk 
through the greenhouse where bloomed the choicest 
flowers, carefully attended and sending forth the most 
delicious perfume. Miss Abigail was in high spirits and 
at each step of the way became more and more pleased 
with her protege. 

‘ ‘ I will make an open confession that I am enamored 
with your winsome face and weighty pedals, and there’s 
an end of it,” she said, as she pinned some choice lilies 
on Fay. 

The next day, as Fay entered the hall after returning 
from a walk in the park back of Miss Abigail’s grounds, 
she observed the parlor door ajar and heard Miss Abigail 
say, her voice ominously high and shrill: 

” And so you think to purchase my bottom lands, eh T' 

“I desire to as it would be an excellent location for my 
business. I would be willing to pay a good price and — ” 

‘‘I will tell you the same that I told another party 
that came here to buy it the other day,” interrupted Miss 
Abigail. 

” And what was that, pray ?” 

“Nothing. Simply nothing.” 

Fay had just passed the door when Miss Abigail called 
her back. 

“ Come in,” she said, in a most satirical style, “ and 
play the ‘ Dead March in Saul.’ ” 

Fay reluctantly entered the room and recognized the 
stranger to be the young man whom she had seen on the 
boat in company with the elderly gentleman who, una- 
wares, had guided her to the protecting arms of Miss 
Abigail. A visible blush was upon his face which height- 


FAY BANNING. 


277 


ened when she entered. She bowed slightly and seated 
herself so as not to command a view of his face, not 
wishing to add one jot or tittle to the embarrassment 
which she knew he was sure to suffer at Miss Abigail’s 
hands. She longed to tell him what obligations she 
owed him, but to do so in Miss Abigail’s presence, she 
knew was to imperil her safety. 

Miss Abigail sat in a high upholstered chair directly on 
the opposite side of the room from the troubled young 
man, her feet encased in morocco slippers and resting on 
a stool; her short frock, showing more ankles than grace, 
abashed the young people exceedingly. 

‘ I believe you are a friend of my aunt Mary Brown, of 
New York,” stammered the young man, striving to ap- 
proach her through another and more agreeable channel. 

” Yes,” she said dryly, without evincing one degree of 
surprise. The cat was toying with the mouse. 

” And I thought while in the city I would call and — 
and — ” 

‘ Yes; and — and — see me. Miss Fay, please poke up 
the animal; and will it not soon be time for you to feed 
me? Should one pang of hunger shoot through my 
stomach it would be dangerous for the visitor. ’ ’ 

His embarrassment was now turned into anger. 

” How my aunt could love such an ogress is a mystery 
which I do not care to solve,” he said, rising and start- 
ing for the door. 

“’Young man, do not get the mistaken idea into your 
head that to keep your aunt’s friendship, I would court 
her whole kith and kin from father Adam down. I hate 
these people who go from place to place and stop with 
heard of people only because it is convenient, ” said queer 
Miss Abigail, following him to the door. 

And he was gone. 


278 


FAY BANNING. 


Miss Abigail returned, and with pursed-up mouth and 
disdainful finger-tips she removed the evidences from the 
carpet, or pretended to, that the gentleman had found 
some dust in his travels. She was sanguine that the 
cigar scent which his clothes had imparted to the divan 
on which he sat could never be eradicated. Then, too, 
he might be carrying* some infectious disease: and to kill 
the contagious matter sprinkled chlorine in the hall and 
in the room where he sat. 

Fay soon found a work. She devoted much of her 
time in caring for the sick, or carrying food and clothing 
to the destitute and hungry — the means mainly furnished 
by Miss Abigail, who “dearl}^ loved to see the good 
work go on,” she said, “ bnt couldn’t go herself, being 
so tender-hearted.” Sometimes Fay rode out with her 
kind benefactress, but not often, for she drove spirited 
animals and did her own driving, sitting with her feet 
braced against the dashboard, her arms straight out with 
the lines, letting the horse reach the top of his speed, 
thus driving in a masterly manner andentirel}^ indifferent 
to public sentiment. 

October waned and November’s chill winds began to 
blow. 

One day when Fay had gone forth with her basket as 
usual to visit some person in want, she failed to return. 
At first Miss Abigail fretted ; then, as evening wore 
slowly on and she that had gone came not, she walked 
the path from the house to the gate and counted 'the 
moments as they slowly passed. The clock from the 
steeple tolled the hour of ten. She could be no longer 
passive. Entering the house, she got her shawl and bon- 
net and then went forth to give the alarm. As she told 
her story at the nearest police station, all the old inflexi- 
bility that had so long dwelt in her face had passed away 
and left instead a look of suffering, unusual indeed for her, 


FAY BANNING. 


279 


The men for the most part listened to her story with an 
indifferent air and walked away in a careless manner, to 
walk a street or two and then return. All night she con- 
tinued her search, followed by Ike and Dora. Morning 
dawned and still no tidings. The news of the strange 
disappearance of the girl spread through the city. Many 
smiled and said she had played Miss Abigail a trick and 
had eloped. 

The few who knew her strove to comfort Miss Abigail 
and joined her in her search. 

Tater on, when her health began to fail and she no 
longer walked about, but sat by her chamber window at 
home looking out upon the street, waiting and watching 
for Fay to come, a feeling of respect prevailed for her in 
her distress among all kinds of people. 

At night she was wont to place a lamp in Fay’s win- 
dow, and w^hen asked the reason why by compassionate 
friends who called, would say, “ to guide her back should 
she escape from those who keep her away.” Then, 
bursting into tears, would add: ‘‘I know she has been 
cruelly murdered. Oh, how those eyes haunt me in my 
dreams ! Ever calling, calling, calling for me, her hands 
stretched forth imploring me to bring her back. Oh, 
God, never more in life to touch that gentle hand in love 
and friendship. Never, never more ! ” 

Autumn passed and winter came. Fay was quite for- 
gotten by all save one, who watched and waited for her 
coming. If Miss Abigail heard the leaves rustling in the 
wind at night she was sure it was Fay coming back. The 
wind moaning in the leafless branches of the elms she 
sometimes imagined was her voice and rose to let 
her in. 

The winter months dragged slowly by and spring had 
come. It was rumored that Miss Abigail was dying. 
That dreaded disease, consumption in its quickest form^ 


280 


FAY BANNING. 


had laid its hold on her, and the doctors said she had but 
a little while to live. 

One day as a kind friend was sitting by her bedside 
soothing her pillow in her last moments, for the end was 
ver}^ near, she raised her thin hand, while a halo shown 
round her face, and said softly: “ I am dying, but I am 
saved. The Father calls me home; Fay Banning did 
His work. Her stay with me, though short, was a last- 
ing good. No life can be pure and guileless and other 
lives not be made purer for it. Though she was uncon- 
scious of the influence she exerted over me, she caused a 
little flower to spring up in my barren heart, and her 
going from me in the way she did, has caused it to bloom 
and it shall never die. I now plainly see* why God moves 
in mysterious ways His wonders to perform. I shall meet 
Fay Banning in heaven.” 

And Abigail Sutherland was dead. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


When Fay left the house on the morning on which she 
so suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace to give the de- 
tectives the slightest clue to ferret out the mystery, she 
drew her cloak tightly around her, for the temperature 
had suddenly become quite low, and hurried away in the 
direction of the confines of the city beyond Corn Hill. 
She had reached her destination, and was about to enter 
a miserable little Jiovel with her basket of food, when she 
discovered a little girl standing on the walk only a short 
distance away, crying and trying to gather up something 
which she had spilled, while a lot of boys were teasing 
her and splashing water on her. 

Fay entered the hovel, set down her basket, saying she 
would call for it presently and hurried out again. She 
quickly dispersed the cruel boys, then began to assist 
the weeping child to gather up the grains of coffee which 
she had spilled. 

The little creature was poorly clad and so pale and thin 
that Fay wondered at the little shivering frame being 
able to withstand a sharp frost or a chilling blast of 
wind. 

“ Where do you live ? ” she asked of the child as she 
was about to start on. 

“ Oh, a long ways from here ; a mile or more from the 
city. We have to beg since father is sick, an’ sometimes 
we has to go purty hungry. We didn’t have any supper 
last night, and to-day we had only a few potato parings. 
I have begged all morning, and people get tired of giving 
us things. A lady give me some crackers and this cof- 
fee. I wish I knew where lco ild trade the coffee for 

281 


282 


FAY BANNING. 


some meal or flour. It would give us far more strength, 
I’m thinkin’, than the coffee.” And the little wan crea- 
ture affected a smile. 

Fay turned to hide the tears that forced their way to 
her eyes, and told the child to wait a moment until she 
returned. She hastened back to a little corner grocery, 
bought a few articles of substantial food and borrowed an 
old shawl from the lady who kept the grocery, then hurried 
back. Wrapping the shawl around the shivering little 
one, she told her she would accompany her home. 

“ It will please mother .so to have you come, for she 
can’t go now'heres since father is sick, an’ no ones comes 
to see us because we are so poor,” she replied, her eyes 
brightening at the thought of having some one speak a 
word of comfort to that sorrowing mother, the nearer and 
dearer to her offspring because of her abject poverty. 

They left the cit}^ by a road leading into the country, 
but soon turned off into a well-trodden path, which the 
child said would take them sooner to her home than by 
following the turnpike. 

The path at first led down into a steep ravine, in which 
grew evergreen trees so thick as to render it quite dark 
even in daylight ; then up the hillside again into the open 
country. When they arrived at the destitute home of the 
little girl — but why repeat it : ’Tis the same old story of 
want and misery again that we see around us every day, 
and seeing it always, our hearts become hardened and 'we 
turn away unmindful of suffering humanity. 

Then, quite the same as now, the rich died and left 
their hoards to foreign missions (if their hearts felt charit- 
able at all) merely to be lauded by their fellow church- 
men, whose piety was made callous and inactive by too 
much kneeling. 

Fay started to return by the path which she had 
gone and was descending into the ravine, when she sud- 


FAY BANNING. 


283 


denl}^ discovered an old woman in the path a short dis- 
tance ahead, struggling to climb the hill. She leaned 
heavily on a staff, taking only a few steps at a time, then 
paused to rest, evidently much fatigued. On approach- 
ing nearer. Fay saw that she was a most uncanny looking 
old creature, and her strange attire gave her the appear- 
ance of a witch like the ones she had seen pictures of and 
had read about in her little picture books, long since for- 
gotten. 

The old crone pretended not to see her until she was 
about to pass, when she suddenly stopped and, leaning 
on her staff, began to poke the locks of gray hair that 
straggled over the sunken temples under her cap, and, 
grinning hideously, said : 

‘ ‘ Aye, whither away so fast, my pretty lady ? Pause 
ye not to say a kind word to the wimbly old woman who 
can read the stars and foretell the future, and who sees in 
the fair lady’s face the sea of trouble she has been cross- 
ing, but is now about to moor her bark in a peaceful 
haven and be sheltered from the storms?” 

“A fortune teller,” thought Fay. ‘‘I have half a 
notion to hear the old crone drone over her senseless 
•j argon j ust for fun . ” 

“I was just returning from a visit of charity,” she 
added aloud, evasively. 

“Aye, what a kind creature you are, always going 
about helping the poor and the afflicted. You give much 
in secret, and ere another moon shall wax and wane you 
will be rewarded openly. But does the fair lady ever 
think of the lover she left away back by a river, that ever 
murmers, murmers, murmers for her to come back 
again ? ” said the old creature, stepping up a little closer 
to Fay. 

“My eyes 1 ” thought Fay. “lam beginning to be- 
Ueve in fortune telling. She hit the nail a hard blow 


284 


FAY BANNING. 


on the head that time 1 Guess I’ll wait for some more.” 
Then, adding aloud : 

‘ ‘ Is not the reader of the stars prating now ? ’ ’ 

“Ah, no, my gentle lady; you would trifle with me. 
It is given me to know the mind and heart. That young 
man never married. Oh, gentle lady, he loves you yet, 
and you was jealous of him without a cause and ran away. 
He awaits your coming and mourns, mourns, mourns be- 
cause you come not. Why do you not flee to him, gentle 
lady ? ’ 

And she took a step nearer, while Fay retreated k step. 

” Tet me take your hand, gentle lad}^ and then I can 
tell you about the fortune that rightfully is ygurs. There 
is money for you.” And she reached out her hand to 
receive Fay’s in return. 

” Isn’t it strange the way she goes on ! What would 
Miss Abigail say were she to see me here listening to this 
old sibyl. My! she would make the earth tremble far 
more than it did when Pluto, deus infeforum, came forth 
in his car and abducted Proserpina,” thought Fay, smil- 
ing. ” I — guess — I’ll — give — her — my — hand.” 

And the next moment the fair hand was in the bony 
claw of the old hag. 

“Why, fair lady, you saw that lover not long ago. 
He was badly hurt and you ran away again.” 

” Isn’t it wonderful I ” thought Fay. 

“Here comes a wicked woman, aye, very wicked, 
gentle lady, who has wronged you so much. She has 
black hair and black eyes,” resumed the old witch, in- 
tently reading the hand. 

” Celia Tewksburry,” thought Fay. 

“And she is ” 

Fay now thought she heard a footstep back of her, and 
was just in the act of turning her head, when a pair of 
strong arms were thrown about her and a handkerchief 


FAY banning. 


285 


forced to her mouth and nose. In a moment her struggles 
became weaker and weaker, and, seeing the Catholic 
sister who had haunted her thoughts so much of late, 
standing a little way off under the trees, she feebly raised 
her hand and beckoned as if imploring help ; but in an- 
other moment it fell limp at her side and she was fast 
asleep. 

* * * * 

When Fay again fully regained consciousness, she 
found herself sitting on a pallet in a low, whitewashed 
room, with iron gratings over the little window which 
was high up near the ceiling. 

The only articles of furniture in the room were a bam- 
boo chair, a small round table, and the pallet on which 
she sat. The floor was covered with straw matting, and 
everything was scrupulously clean. “Either in jail 
awaiting trial for some crime unjustly laid to my charge, 
or in a mad-house,” was the first clear thought. 

In another moment the latter hypothesis was clearly 
proven, for she was rudely startled by the sound of maniac 
voices from the cells. The hideous noises fairly froze 
the blood in her veins. Some were boisteriously laugh- 
ing, some crying, some screaming, and some imploring 
help, some singing, while others held forth in varied ex- 
hortations, most appalling to the listener. 

Fay made a tour of the little room which held her 
prisoner, first trying the door, which she found to be 
securely locked, then stepped up on the chair which sat 
under the window, and looked out upon the surround- 
ings. The building seemed to be quite a large edifice, 
built of gray stone, and beautifully situated on the bank 
of a large river. Thegrounds were well kept and beauti- 
ful with evergreens, and statuaries of the most exquisite 
style and finish. No other buildings were in sight, leav- 
ing the mad-house lone and solitary. 


286 


I^AY BANNING. 


The low hanging clouds were drizzling rain, making 
the day as gloomy as was the mind of the prisoner. 

After making the survey, she lay down on the pallet 
and wept long and bitterly. It all occurred to her now 
why she was there. Some new plot of Celia and Isa- 
belle’s, she thought, to further their heinous desires for 
persecution. 

Hearing a key turn in the lock, she quickly rose, and 
seating herself in the chair, nervously awaited the com- 
ing of the visitant. 

A female attendant in neat attire, bearing a tray of food 
quietly entered the room, and placing the tray on the 
table, turned to the fair maniac to invite her to partake 
of the dainties, for such was the food, when she discover- 
ed that her eyes were red with weeping. 

“Ah!” she exclaimed, “ Sister Del Rock weeps. And 
why does she weep when she should be so happy ? See, ’ ’ 
she said, pointing to the tray, “ what choice dainties An- 
toinette brings her to-day. Come and eat.” 

“A well trained attendant,” thought Fay. “Sister 
Del Rock ” she mused. 

And glancing at her own dress for the first time noticed 
she was clad in the vestment of a Catholic Nun. “Must 
these holy women again be abased by the false use of 
their saintly robes,” she said to herself as she thought of 
the one she had seen on the boat, whom she now knew to 
have been Celia Tewksburry. 

“ Will Antoinette please tell the lady who is not a Sis- 
ter, where she is and what has brought her here?” said 
Fay, wiping her swollen eyes and for the first time speak- 
ing aloud. 

The girl was thoughtful for a moment, as if designing 
a stor)^, then replied: “ She is in Dr. Harte’s hospital. 
She was sick when she came here, but is better now.” 


l^AY banning. 


^87 


“ And where is Doctor Harte’s hospital ? I mean in 
what state, and in what part, and the name of the county?” 

“Oh, in Missouri. This beautiful house is on the bank 
of the Missouri River,” replied the girl, hoping to satisfy 
the poor creature, whom she now thought to be only 
better of her ravings for a short time. 

” But what part of the state?” persisted Fay, with such 
a beseeching voice and look that Antoinette wiped a tear 
from her eyes and replied ; “In the western part. Will 
not Sister Del Rock come now and taste the food that 
Antoinette brings ?” 

” I am not hungry,” replied Fay, “ but wish to be re- 
leased at once that I may go back to my friends. I walk- 
ed out one day, and was foolish enough to listen to an 
old gipsy’s prate in an out-of-the-way place, when I was 
seized by her pals and put under the influence of a nar- 
cotic and this is the result. Will you please tell the pro- 
prietor of this institution I wish to see him at once,” said 
Fay, rising. “I have been the victim of a cruel con- 
spiracy to get me out of the way. Now that the narcotic 
that they must have drugged me with has spent its force 
and I am myself again, will the doctor but take the 
trouble to investigate my case, he w^ould be a dullard in- 
deed to find any symptoms of insanity.’ 

Antoinette mournfully shook her head and seemed to 
regard this only a lucid interval of the patient whom she 
seemed to think would soon be raving again. 

” Will you please send the Doctor here immediately?” 
still pleaded Fay. “Or let me out?” 

‘‘The Doctor will be in soon,” replied Antoinette. 

And fearing Fay would attempt an escape she quickly 
left the room, closing and locking the door. 

Fay sat down again, leaving the food untasted, and re- 
signedly awaited the coming of Doctor Harte, feeling 
assured that she could convince him of her sanity. 


288 


FAY BANNING. 


lyate in the afternoon he made his appearance — a nerv- 
ous, fitful, little man, with piercing gray eyes, small aqui- 
line nose and a heavy shock of long, silvery-white hair 
falling over his shoulders. He had altogether a sinister 
look, and Fay’s heart sank within her when she saw him. 

“ Celia Tewksburry chose well the man for her nefari- 
ous work,” she thought. 

” And how does Sister Del Rock find herself to-day ?” 
inquired the Doctor, stepping around like a pigeon. 

“Sir,” said Fay, bowing gravely, “you have been 
deceived. Enemies have placed me in this mad-house 
while under the influence of some drug which kept me 
in a state of semi-insensibility' until they succeeded in 
accomplishing their work. No doubt the mild delirium 
in which I probably was when I came, justified their 
charges of madness. But, oh, sir, I am no more mad than 
you, and will you but take the trouble to write my friend. 
Miss Sutherland, with whom I lived in St. Eouis, you 
will find my statements true. I left home to do some 
charity work and was met in an unfrequented place, 
given chloroform and spirited away by the people who 
brought me here to remove me from their paths, for what 
reason I know not. But judging from the past career of 
these same people, there is some diabolical work afoot, 
which, for its accomplishment, necessitates my being 
carefully placed out of the way.” 

“Most astonishing is this piece of intelligence!” ex- 
claimed the Doctor, incredulously. 

‘ Just make an examination and I think you will find no 
symptoms of mental derangement,” pleaded Fay. 

“ No ; I think not. You seem to be rational and cer- 
tainly as eloquent as a Philadelphia lawyer. But I have 
grown accustomed to such flights of oratory and am not 
affected as much by them as you would naturally suppose. 
Come, come, Sister,* why don’t you eat, or is this one of 


FAY BANNING. 


289 


your fast days? I never had one of these fish-eaters in 
my immediate charge before, and the food that we offer 
you may be a little out of joint. When it is not proper 
just order a rehash. Is your appetite good ?” 

Curled in scorn was the classic lip, and the injured g^'rl 
disdained a reply. 

The little Doctor now thrust his hands into his pockets 
and nervously strode up and down the room. 

Suddenly turning on his heel he said : “ I’ll come in 
at some more convenient season to talk over the different 
phases of mental derangement.” 

Then he went away still leaving her a captive. 

She clearly saw that he discreetly intended to regard 
her story as the fiction of deranged imagination which to 
believe would be unprofitable. He was a charlatan and 
plied his vocation, in the main for money. Ingeniously 
so. She resolved never to approach him again on the 
subject of her sanity, but watch and wait for a chance'of 
escape. 

But alas for poor Fay ! The doctor, convinced of her 
sanity and also of the truth of her testimony, took, 
accordingly, the greatest precautions against any possi- 
bilities of escape. The attendants exercised the strictest 
vigilance over her, allowing none of the many visitors 
who frequented the institution to enter her cell. Some- 
times Fay would hear them ask to enter, as they passed, 
but the answer woul*d invariably be, “The inmate is 
violent.” And then they would hurry on. 

Was she doomed to die in this strange prison a cruel 
death and her persecutors left to walk the earth unpun- 
ished for their iniquitous work ? How the weeks, the 
days, aye, the hours, dragged by. 

At last it was New Year. Would no helping hand 

ever be raised to deliver her? Yet she was ever hopeful 

% 


290 


KAY BANNING. 


that God would hear her supplications and at last grant 
her freedom. 

One day Antoinette left the door unlocked when she 
entered the cell which Fay quickly noticed, and darting 
to the door, she opened it, ran into the hall, down two 
flights of stairs, with Antoinette screaming at her heels, 
and gained the outer door of the lower hall when she 
was captured and taken back. She paid dearly for the 
bold attempt to gain her liberty with the unmerciful 
beating she received at the hands of a brutal male attend- 
ant whose only business it was to inflict punishment on 
the inmates for the most trivial offences. 

But verily there was a God in Israel then, who heard 
the prayers of his children the same as now. 

The long winter months at last passed away. The 
spring breezes returned and began whispering to the 
flowers to wake up and join the concert of delightful 
influences that accompany the heraldry of spring. 

From the dreary prison cell, during a .season of tem- 
porary quiet which sometimes reigned among the 
maniacs. Fay could hear the joyous songs of the birds 
outside as they flitted about .among the branches of the 
trees selecting places for their little nests, the while 
seeming to vie with one another in the sweetness of their 
notes. She spent much of her time watching them from 
the window. To her delight two robins came and began 
fashioning their nest on the window-sill ; and she some- 
times forgot her misery as she watched the little workers 
weaving the fibres of grass into the trim little fabric. At 
first the birds were shy, and Fay exercised the greatest 
care not to annoy them lest she frighten them away. 
She broke a hole through a pane of glass and fed them 
crumbs. At last they became accustomed to the face at 
the window and would hop about upon the sill and while 


FAY banning. 


291 


warbling their sweetest notes would look at the prisoner 
as if to say; “ Don’t mourn ; we will sing to you.” 

One day, while watching her pets as usual, she heard 
voices at her door, and turned to listen. She recognized 
one voice to be that of Antoinette, and could hear quite 
distinctly the drift of the conversation. 

‘‘A Catholic Sister, did you say ? ” said a voice 

“Yes,” replied Antoinette, “and a beautiful creature 
she is. I feel so sorry for her. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Where is she from ? ” , 

“I do not know exactly. I think from a convent 
somewhere in Indiana.” 

Fay now quietly stepped down from the chair in which 
she had to stand to watch the birds, ran to the door 
and placed her ear to the key-hole that she might not 
loose a word. 

“And you say the doctor allows no one to enter her 
cell?” 

“ No,” replied Antoinette, sadly. 

“ Is she violent ? ” still pressed the voice, the sweetest 
one Fay thought that she had ever heard. 

“No — yes, sometimes,” faltered Antoinette. ‘ ‘She is 
classed among the incurables.” 

“ Will you please let me see her? ” 

“ O, mon che? ! the docteur would kill me were I to do 
that ! ’ ’ exclaimed Antoinette. 

“Let me in, fasten the door, and go away, then at a 
convenient time come for me,” earnestly pleaded the 
strange voice. 

“ Mon Dieu ! would you have me killed 1 ” 

“ Do as I bid you ! ” persisted the strange voice. 

“Will you promise never to tell?” said Antoinette 
beginning to yield. 

“Yes, I promise.” 

“ Nor make any noise if she murders you ? ” 


292 


FAY BANNING. 


“ Not a murmur.” 

” Then go in quickly.” 

And the key began to turn in the lock while Fay 
sprang back and seated herself in her chair. 

It was a slender figure that entered, clad in the raiment 
of a nun, with a lovely face where dwelt a look of peace 
and holiness. 

Fay rose to meet her, and for a moment her eyes met 
the interested gaze of the sister, — Fay noting th^ tender 
look of compassion in her face, the sister spellbound 
with the classic features of the maniac ; the snow-white 
cheeks, the bright eyes moistened with tears looking like 
the dew-stained violets. The sister studied her face. 
Where was that wild stare that ever shone in the maniac’s 
e3^e ? No traces of mania were there. Fay bursting into 
tears ran forward and threw her arms around her neck, 
crying, ” Oh, God ! At last, at last, someone has come ! 
Oh, believe me, I am not mad, but soon shall be if I 
do not escape this torture which is far worse than 
death ! ” 

For a moment the sister seemed half afraid and shrank 
from her, which Fay quickly noticed, and retreated. 

“Please be seated,” said she, pointing to the chair, 
when she found voice to speak, her joy choking utter- 
ance. 

“ God bless you, dear creature,” said the sister, taking 
the proffered seat. 

Fay seated herself on the pallet and broke into a fit of 
sobbing. The kind sister rose and sat down beside her, 
and drawing her head on her bosom, begged her not to 
weep. 

“Oh, I can’t help it 1 ” cried the heart-broken girl. 
“Another week here and I shall die ! Oh, can’t you 
take me away ? ” 

“ Where and who are your friends ? ” asked the sister. 


FAY BANNING. 


293 


“ Will you listen to my story ? ” pleaded Fay, striving 
to check her tears. 

“Yes, most gladly; but first, what convent are you 
from ? ’ ’ 

“ From none. This is only the story they have made 
to keep me here. Wait till I tell you 1 “ and she began 
to prepare for a recital of her woes. 

‘ ‘ Oh, my unfortunate girl, they told me you were a 
sister. What is your name ? “ 

“ Fay Banning.” 

The sister was thoughtful for a moment. 

“Fay — Banning. Fay — Banning,” she slowly re- 
peated. Then rising, she opened her reticule, that she 
had laid on the table when she entered the cell, and 
taking out a paper closely scanned the columns for a 
moment, then turned to Fay, saying : 

“ Not the one advertised for in this paper, surely ? ” 
and pointed to 

WANTED. 

Inlormatiou is desired as to the whereabouts of Fay Banning, 
who has recently fallen heir to a large estate in Kentucky. 

Lockwood & Son, 

Att’ys-at-Law, 

Frankfort, Ky. 

“ Ah, that explains this strange captivity ! ” exclaimed 
Fay, when she had read the advertisement. “Yes, it 
is I. I was brought here while under the influence of an 
opiate, and why the deed was done has been a dark mys- 
tery to me.” 

She then gave an account of the abduction and the 
strange conduct of the doctor. 

“But how am I to escape ?” she asked in conclusion. 

Again the Sister was thoughtful. Presently she said : 

“Dear Miss Banning, you poor injured one, I am 
fully convinced of your sanity. A few moments of conver- 


294 


FAY BANNING. 


sation with you would convince anyone but a dullard of 
that. Your sorrows have been heavy, indeed. What 
heinous uses these private mad-houses are sometimes put 
to by wicked people, who shrink from bloodshed ! Now, 
if I wait to take legal measures to free you from this 
place, before you could be liberated your voice might be 
hushed forever,” said the good sister, shuddering, ” and 
so it wdll not do to begin initiatory steps to free you and 
you still in their power. Only one w'ay remains to get 
you away in safety. It is this : You don my shawl, take 
my reticule and walk out and away, leaving me here in 
your place. Do not — ” 

“ I cannot do that ! Oh, I cannot ! exclaimed Fay. It 
would imperil your life ! ” 

“ lyisten to me 1 ” said the loving Sister, raising her 
hand. ” Do not say a word to that attendant, but walk 
boldly away and down the stairs, carefully keeping your 
face hidden as much as possible ; and once outside — ’ ’ 

“ Oh, please do not urge me thus. To leave you here, 
innocent, and at the mercy of these ravenous wolves ; I 
cannot — ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Again I beseech you to listen ! ’ ’ interrupted the 
Sister. “ Go down to the river, follow the road that leads 
to the south along the bank, until you come to the little 
village, where you can soon take a boat for St. Douis. I 
will bury my face in the pillows whenever they enter the 
cell and pretend to be weeping until to-morrow, when 
you will be beyond their reach. Then I will ask to be 
excused and go my way.” 

And she began to prepare Fay for the journey. 

“In heaven’s name, do not urge me to leave you 
here ! ” pleaded Fay, resisting her arrangements. 

“Hush ! Here, take this reticule. In it is money to 
bear you to your friends. Quick, I hear them coming ! ” 

She pushed Fay toward the door. 


FAY BANNING. 


295 


“ Remember,” she said, “ to turn away your face.” 

‘ ‘ Where shall we meet again ? ’ ’ anxiously inquired 
'Fay. 

“In St. Louis, at — at — ” the door began to open. 
‘ ‘ Pray to meet in heaven if — ’ ’ the door opened and 
the Sister’s head was buried in the pillows. 

Fay walked boldly out, or attempted to. Her tremb- 
ling limbs, rendered weak from long disuse, seemed 
ready to fail her. She passed Antoinette in the door, and, 
tossing her head to one side, muttered, ” Well enough, I 
guess ” to the question, ” How did you find the patient ?” 
and walked away with a very independent air. 

Antoinette entered the cell, locking the door after her, 
and approaching the maniac, said : ” And how is Sister 
Del Rock to-day ? ” 

The only response was a frightful scream, which made 
the little cell ring and frightened the robins away from 
the window. 

” Oh, Sister Del Rock is mad ! ” exclaimed Antoinette, 
springing back to the door, her hair fairly standing on 
end. 

Another scream with fright, and the maniac rushed 
upon her and began beating her with the pillow, which 
fully convinced Antoinette that the ” Sister ” was mad, 
and the time that it took her to make her escape was 
something less than the time it takes to tell it. 

The next day she was shocked to find that her charge 
was the visitor of the day previous. 

‘•'Oh, Mon Dieu ! ” she cried, when she discovered 
‘ Sister Del Rock ’ had escaped. Doctor Harte will kill 
me! He will, he will, he will 1 ” 

“Come,” said the kind Sister. “Leave this place 
with me, and you will suffer no injury ” 

“Do you really mean for me to go away with you? 
But I starve I ’ ’ 


296 


FAY BANNING. 


“ No, you will not starve. Come, prepare. 

“ I will, I will, I will 1 ” cried Antoinette, brightening 
up. 

In another hour the Sister was out of prison and on the 
way to St. I^ouis, accompanied by Antoinette. 

Fay reached her destination in safety, and after landing, 
hastened toward the home of her kind benefactress, 
whom she hoped would welcome her back, little dreaming 
that she had journeyed to that land from whence no 
traveler returns. 

As she hurried along, she thought of the kind Sister 
whom she had left behind in peril, and resolved to en- 
treat Miss Abigail to join her at once to effect her rescue. 

When she arrived at the gate she observed that the 
house was closed, and wondered if Miss Abigail had 
‘ ‘ started off again on one of her gastronomical tours to 
New York.” She hoped not. When s^e reached the 
door, she quickly rang the bell and waited the response, 
her heart beating almost audibly. Presently she heard 
a slow, measured step in the hall, and the old servant 
Emily opened the door. 

Fay, rushing in, clasped her hand and asked her where 
her mistress was. 

” Why, child, have you come back from the grave ! ” 
exclaimed the old servant, shading her dim eyes with her 
hand and peering curiously at Fay as if she might be a 
spirit. 

“Well, very nearly,” replied Fay; “but where is 
Miss Sutherland ? ’ ’ 

The old lady looked at ner a moment, her eyes filling 
with tears, then took her arm and led her to the end of 
the piazza and said in a husky voice, while pointing to 
the cemetery on the hillside ; ‘ ‘ My mistress sleeps — up 
yander.” 


FAY BANNING. 


297 


It was enough. Fay staggered back against the wall 
for support. When she recovered from the momentary 
shock, she slowly entered the house, and sinking down 
into a chair, wept most bitterly. 

Old Emily followed her into the house and tried to 
comfort her. 

But she looked out for you most handsomely,” said 
Emily, hoping thus to lessen her grief. “ Half her for- 
tune goes to the poor.” 

‘‘ Thank God ! ” said Fay. 

“ An’ tother half to you, in case you are found in ten 
year, an’ if not, that goes to the poor, I hearn ’em say.” 

” It shall go to the poor,” sobbed Fay. 

When she had recovered from her grief sufficiently to 
control her tears, she sought her old room, changed her 
attire, then in company with Emily visited Miss Abigail’s 
grave. 

In a sequestered corner of the church-yard, ’neath an 
elm, where the sunbeams seemed to sleep so quietly on 
the short, green grass. Fay found the grave of that noble 
but eccentric woman who had befriended her in one of 
the darkest hours of her life, and who, dying, sought to 
relieve suffering humanity with her fortune rather than 
bequeath it to those not in need of it. 

Arriving at the house again. Fay found a telegram 
awaiting her to the effect that her friend had escaped from 
the mad-house and was already on her way to St. Louis, 
naming a place where she might be found when she ar- 
rived. 

Fay at once set about to settle up the estate of the de- 
ceased. She found she was heir to half of it, but not 
needing it, only took for her share enough to bear her 
home and to pay the Sister well for her trouble, then let 
the residue go as Miss Abigail had willed should she not 
be found. 


298 


FAY BANNINGr. 


She did not wait for the arrival of her friend, but left a 
letter saying she would return when she had received her 
inheritance, and hoped to pay her for all her trouble, 
which now she was only partially able to do. 

And once more turned her face toward Kentucky. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Fay stopped at Cairo to change boats, Great was her 
surprise at meeting Guy Iceland on the pier almost as 
soon as she landed. His joy at finding her knew no 
bounds, but she, not yet aware of the culmination of Isa- 
belle’s plot, kept a strict reserve. He invited her to a re- 
tired place on the pier and related all that had occurred 
to prove her innocent of the scandal, yet shielding his 
.sister as much as possible. He thought it would be a 
lasting lesson to her, and trusted that she would be a bet- 
ter woman. When he related Fern’s part in the melo- 
drama, despite her struggle to keep from laughing, she 
could not, and begged him to pardon her. 

He told her Arthur EUsmere had been to Glen Hazel 
only a few days before in hopes of finding some trace of 
her, but had gone south again, he thought to Vicksburg, 
to search for her there. 

He related how Fern had pined for her and would be 
wild with joy at hearing of her return, and begged that 
she would proceed to Glen Hazel immediately after she 
had gained her inheritance, which she promised to do. 

He informed her he had disposed of his property in 
New Orleans and was returning to make out the neces- 
sary papers for the transfers. That hence. Fern and he 
would spend their winters in Florida. 

Fay then related her fortunes and misfortunes after 
leaving New Orleans to which he listened with the deep- 
est interest, expressing the most profound indignation at 
the heinous attempt of her enemies to keep her captive in 
order to usurp her rights. 

When the time arrived for them to depart they bade 
each other a kind farewell and went their ways. 

299 


800 


FAY BANNING. 


On her arrival in Frankfort Fay proceeded at once to 
the law office of Fockwood & Son, where she was identi- 
fied as the rightful heir of the Banning estate. Writs of 
ejectment were issued on the Tewksburrys. Fay obtained 
a warrant for Celia’s arrest, deeming it a necessity to in- 
sure her own safety, A constable was despatched to 
serve the writs and warrant. Fay awaiting in Frankfort 
the return of that functionary with the prisoner, in order 
to be present at the hearing. 

Colonel Tewksburry was sitting on the broad piazza 
of his magnificent home enjoying the balmy spring breezes 
looking north, south, east, and west, as if deciding which 
course to pursue, for the warm sunshine had awakened in 
his bosom “ an ardent desire to travel” again, when Jim 
Barger came dashing along the road on his horse and up 
to the gate. Dismounting, he ran at an alarming rate 
over the the lawn and up to the stuffy Colonel. 

“Colonel !” yelled Barger, all out of breath. 

“What!” replied the Colonel, and springing up he 
upset a flower stand, which sent the pots of choice flowers 
rolling and breaking over the floor. 

“The de’il is to pay 1” screamed Barger. “ Fay Ban- 
ning has escaped and is in Frankfort. You’d better cut 
your ashes, old man, for warrants have been sworn out 
for yours, and mine, and Mis Tewksburry, and Zealy’s 
arrest! Two for Miss Zealy I 

“ Heavens!” screamed both women who had heard the 
loud talk, and had appeared in the door just in time to 
catch the last three sentences. 

“ Oh, what shall we do 1” shrieked Madame Julia. 

“And to cap the durned affair, that dressmaker you 
had here bastin’ an’ fittin’ was my wife !” yelled Bar- 
ger. 

“Great heavens!” cried Celia, “ What am I to do?” 
And her wicked face was deadly pale. 


FAY BANNING. 


301 


“ Git right out of here to onct!” answered Barger. 

“How do you know all this is true?” asked the 
Colonel, affecting some coolness. 

“Nat Beggs was in Frankfort and heard it accidentally, ’ ’ 
replied Barger. “Arthur KUsmere has took out three 
warrants, and this Fay honey one. Come, you’d better 
gether a few traps together, an’ fly. I’m goin’. Farewell.” 

And the outlaw went as he came. 

The late quiet home of the Tewksburrys was soon 
turned into a bustling scene, Madame Julia crying, Celia 
scolding, and the Colonel swearing. 

An hour later they drove away at a dangerous rate 
of speed with a few valuables they had hastily collected 
together, fugitives from the law. 

When the constable arrived he found the place deserted 
by all save the darkies who had brought tin pans, pails, 
and cow-bells, etc., into requisition, and were indulging 
in a jubilee. 

He gathered a posse and followed the fugitives as far as 
the Ohio River, and there lost all trace of them. 

Jim Barger and Nat Beggs had made good their escape. 

Fay was rejoiced to think they had evaded the officer, 
hoping they would not be captured, feeling satisfied they 
would not return to annoy her more. 

While Fay was in Frankfort, Arthur arrived and pro- 
cured the warrants already spoken of by Barger, then 
started home, little dreaming she was so near. 

After all hope was given up of capturing the fugitives. 
Fay started to take possession of her home. 

When she reached the cemetery where slept her beloved 
parents, she determined to visit their tomb before pro- 
ceeding further. Alighting from her carriage she enter- 
ed the silent city of the dead and sought the hallowed 
spot that she was wont to frequent very, very often be- 
fore she was driven from her home. 


302 


FAY BANNING. 


While kneeling on the short, green grass beside the 
monument erected to the memory of her parents, her head 
bowed with grief, she thought she heard a footstep. lyift- 
ing her face she met the gaze of Arthur Kllsmere. 

“Fay!” 

“ Arthur I” 

Then they were clasped in loving embrace and naught 
could be heard but the distant murmuring of the peaceful 
river. 

Fay entered her home amid great rejoicings of the 
blacks. Aunt Sally led the procession to meet her, say- 
ing : “ She was now converted, and would be filled with 
the Holy Ghost as soon as she took a little double shuffle. ’ ’ 

Fay’s old friends came flocking to welcome her as soon 
as they heard of her return. 

Uncle Remus and Aunt Chloe were richly rewarded 
for their kindness, and offered a beautiful little home in 
the valley, but could not be induced to leave their old 
home on the mountain to which they had become so 
much attached. 

The slaves were given their freedom papers, but all 
chose to remain with their kind mistress. 

Bird Barger, after wandering over all New Orleans for 
the disreputable trio, had been obliged to return after a 
fruitless search. 

Fay added her to her own happy home. She became 
a true, intelligent w^oman and much respected. 

Mrs. Ellsmere had died during the preceding winter, 
but her memory was ever kept green by a large circle of 
friends. 

One month after Fay’s arrival home a magnificent 
wedding was celebrated in the grand old mansion of the 
Bannings. 

The bride, our beautiful Fay, whom we have followed 
through so many strange and varied experiences, was 


FAY BANNING. 


303 


becomingly arrayed in creamy satin decorated with 
clusters of orange blossoms, and carrying a beautiful 
bouquet of the fragrant flowers. Around the snowy 
throat was a necklace of pearls, the gift of the happy 
bridegroom. Many friends gathered to witness the mar- 
riage ceremony which united for life the once widely 
separated lovers, and heartfelt and sincere were the 
congratulations which were poured upon them. 

Neither were the servants forgotten, as was testified by 
the sounds of mirth and jollity which proceeded from 
their quarters, and the sumptuous feast spread for them 
in the big kitchen. 

The day following the grand wedding the happy 
bridal pair started for St. I^ouis, where Fay found the 
holy sister who so kindly rescued her from her enemies, 
but no amount of urging could persuade her to accept 
any offering as a remuneration for what she felt was only 
the performance of duty. When they left her she 
showered blessings upon them and hoped that God would 
bless and protect them and grant them long life and 
happiness. 

Fay did not forget to visit the grave of Miss Suther- 
land, her beloved friend, and ordered a magnificent 
monument to be erected to her memory. 

From St. Fouis they started for Glen Hazel, where 
they expected to spend a week, then make a tour of the 
Eastern Continent, expecting to be gone a year, and 
then return home and settle on the patrimonial estate. 

When they reached Glen Hazel, Fern was nearl)^ wild 
with joy. 

“Oh, my dear, same Faisy-daisy 1 ” cried the happy 
girl, throwing her arms around Fay’s neck. 

After a week of rare enjoyment at Glen Hazel, our 
friends continued their trip, Fern and her father accom- 
panying them to New York. 


304 


FAY BANNING. 


While they were in the depot at M , waiting for 

the train, who should appear but Polly Dutton, likewise 
the widow Snugg. 

“ We just thought we’d run in a minit, bein’ in town, 
an’ git a squint at this grand bridal party,” said Polly, 
warming up in her accustomed way. “W’y, howdy 
do, everybody. Powerful glad to see you. Ifhereaint 
Miss Neeland — (shaking Fern’s hand) — an’ her father. 
W’y how dy do, Mr. Leland. I’m real well, thanky. 
An’ these other grand folks, I’ve forgotten their names, 
they havin’ so many,” she said, turning to the bride and 
groom, ‘‘why how well they look. But permit me to 
say. Mis’ Farriday, I think your skirt hangs a 1-e-e-t-l-e 
too full to look fust rate,” and turning to the widow 
Snugg, she added: “But married at last. I do love to 
make folks happy ! ” 

That evening, just as the sun was sinking. Fay and 
Arthur bade their friends good-by and went aboard a 
vessel. That dear old word, “Good-by,” is a sad one 
when it is the parting salutation between friends whom 
thousands of miles of salt water are about to separate. 

Fern watched them, waving her handkerchief until the 
vessel faded to a mere speck, then turned tearfully 
away, saying : “ But it is a trip that some one and I will 
taking one of these fine days.” 

Away in Kentucky a belated traveler one night wended 
his way up the road which wound round and round the 
mountain to the crest. He approached the habitation of 
our humble friends, Remus and Chloe, to seek shelter, 
for the night was dark and the rain was heavily falling. 

Nearing the door, he heard a voice as if in prayer, and 
paused to listen. It was Aunt Chloe’s. 

“ Now may de good Ford who causes de wind to blow 
kind of easy on de sheared sheep, make it blow soft-like 
on — Fay Banning F 


THE END. 













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